And Shine Simple Heroes
by Flyboy254
Summary: When you fight a monster, you have three options. Become one, use one, or man up. NOTE: STORY FOLLOWS "AND SHINE HEAVEN NOW" WEBCOMIC.
1. Prologue

And Shine Simple Heroes

* * *

Prologue

* * *

The brightness of Times Square was a glorious image to anyone who was having their first visit to New York city, tourists milling around the flashing ads as the sun set below the horizon. A few were staring fixedly at news reports coming in about a massive attack on London, but for now, most were still walking and marveling, taking pictures and making memories.

In a now-empty apartment in the Bronx, however, a lone man sat in the darkness, smiling as he flipped a card between his fingers. A group of homeless in tattered rags stood around him, moaning and grunting, the rank smell of their decomposing flesh thankfully blocked by the man's powers. "Are we ready, brothers?" he said in his native language. "I hope you are, because we're about to make our Broadway debut."

* * *

Anne Warbucks sat in her office, looking over the latest reports on the movements of Millenium, as well as Iscariot and the myriad other secret forces that roamed the Earth, searching out and destroying each other. Setting the papers down, she rubbed her forehead. Ever since Sir Hellsing and her people had shown up, the President had ordered the Warbucks Organization to keep tabs on any paranormal forces that might endanger America or her interests. For the President, it was typical posturing. For Anne, it meant more late nights pushing herself to the limit, as well as her agents. Poor Rebecca was beginning to meld with her computer desk, searching the internet for any kind of strange or bizarre attacks or incidents involving vampires. Rally was working doubly hard as well, machining the mechanisms and parts needed for Anne's high-end weapons. Looking back down at the desk, she felt her nerves literally starting to unwind and split apart. "Somebody shoot me."

* * *

"Now that we're all present," the President said, looking around the table at the cabinet. "We've received credible information from the CIA that a major incident is going to take place in London, England in the next few days." Nodding, the cabinet looked down at the manila folders each had in front of them, opening them up, then looking very confused.

"Uh, Mr. President," the Secretary of State said. "What on earth is this?"

Looking down at his own folder, stamped with various "Top Secret" and "Classified Black" markings, the President opened it to see a single sheet of paper, covered in a myriad of disturbing and Nazi-like images, so terrible it made him almost heave. "Who brought this in!" he yelled, rising from his seat, his good ol' boy drawl amplified by his anger.

"I did, you cheap, unfaithful race-traitor," said one of the aides standing near the door. The secret service agents inside wasted no time pulling their weapons and moving to tackle the man. The aide merely swatted them aside like flies. Grabbing one by the neck, the aide threw the agent into another, both landing in a heap. Another agent was thrown headfirst through a wall, a comical sight if it wasn't so obvious the man was probably in excruciating pain. The cabinet members jumped from their seats, some moving for the windows, others making a desperate move for the door. All the exits, however, were locked and bolted, thanks to a few surprise addition the aide had made during the previous night. Realizing that a direct assault on the aide was useless, the remaining pair of agents positioned themselves directly in front of the President, who was standing back against the wall, quivering in fear. "W-w-what is it you want?" he said, doing his level best to keep firm.

"That's easy," the aide said, suddenly flashing a set of newly grown fangs. "I want the football." With a leap, he closed the distance between himself and the agents, as pistol fire erupted in the conference room.

* * *

**Well, here's my first solo Hellsing fic, folks, starting off with a short prologue to get us all started.**

**A note, this story follows the information set down by the webcomic "And Shine Heaven Now", so reading is recommended, not only to understand the story, but to see the Hellsing verse from a wildy different and entertaining point of view.**

**hellsing. comicgenesis. com**

**All rights on "And Shine Heaven Now" belong to Erin Ptah.**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

"How's the gate, Figgins?" Tech Sergeant Coffman said, walking up to the Airman Figgins, who was currently watching the gate to the base in RAF Mildenhall.

"Quiet as usual, sir," Figgins said. "Why do you ask?"

"I just heard from one of the Brits," Coffman said ominously. "They just got reports of a lost carrier."

Figgins let out a low whistle. "Seriously? Was it a hijack?"

"Dunno," Coffman said. "But they jumped on it. But they haven't heard anything yet," he said. "They think their teams were taken out."

Figgins tightened. If someone was taking out an entire carrier, then they definitely had the capability to make an assault on the base.

"Glad you get the picture," Coffman said, walking to the other Airman, Mendez. He never got there. He was tackled from behind by a figure wearing RAF fatigues, with a loud growl. Turning his head barely, he turned just enough to see it was the ranking RAF officer. "G'night, Yank," the man said, his jaws plunging into poor Coffman's neck.

Figgins heard the muffled scream and ran for it, radioing his situation to the rest of security. Skidding to a stop, he saw Coffman's prone body. Going to it and kneeling down, he felt for a pulse, then saw that Coffman's service pistol was missing. "Base, medical needed at main gate, send immediately!"

"_All security forces, report to combat positions, this is not a drill!_" the radio answered. "_Unknown assailants inside the base, be on the lookout for anyoneOH JESUS!"_Figgins had to throw the radio away, the screaming was so loud. Then a small rustling sound to his left drew his attention to Coffman's body, which was now rising up with a moan. Edging back, M16 raised, Figgins tried to talk to his friend. "Sgt. Coffman?" he said nervously. "C'mon, sir, it's me, Figgins! What happened?" Then Coffman turned, and Figgins heard himself scream.

Coffman's teeth had grown to sharp, jagged fangs, his eyes blank and skin dead. Around his eyelids and mouth, blood seeped in slow rivers, almost like tears at his new condition. Then Figgins heard sounds inside the base. Gunfire, explosions, fire, screams. He heard planes exploding on the runway, smelled the fuel burn. He felt his weapon clatter to the ground, as he backed away from the thing that was TechSgt. Coffman. He heard sirens blaring into the night, but he couldn't do anything. Then he grabbed his own pistol and aimed at Coffman's body, the thing reaching out for Figgins.

"Sergeant, stop where you are!" Figgins said, trying to see if Coffman was still there. "If you don't stop, I will shoot!"

Coffman's body just kept coming, and Figgins fired at Coffman's leg. The bullet ripped through the flesh and bone, Coffman's body falling flat to the ground, still clawing its way forward. Figgins fired again, the bullet slamming into Coffman's arm. But the thing still kept crawling, wriggling like a worm towards what it saw as dinner. Finally shooting Coffman in the heart, he collapsed when he saw Coffman still crawling towards his legs. Figgins felt tears in his eyes, felt his mouth working out soft cries for help, as the radio broadcast static. What was this? Why was Coffman doing this? He closed his eyes, his training useless against a man he had considered a great friend and superior. Then, time seemed to slow, as Mendez ran up from behind and fired his pistol straight over Coffman's head, the blood and brain speeding dead into the ground. "You okay?" he asked, helping Figgins up.

"Y-y-yeah," Figgins said, adjusting his glasses. "I just…oh God, what's happening!" he said, his hands running nervously through his hair.

"Dunno," Mendez said, getting Figgins up and handing his buddy his fallen weapon. "But we've got to get a 'vee, get in contact with someone."

"Yeah," Figgins said, pulling himself up with Mendez's help. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

"Boss!" Yellow Kid screamed, running into Anne's office. "The White House is being attacked, POTUS' status unknown!"

Anne was up in an instant, grabbing her data-pad and heading to the roof to pick up Rally and May. "Damage control?"

"Secret Service and Marines are sealing off the White House, as you advised. Local police FBI are also forming a cordon outside the White House. We've also gotten a report from a CIA operator in Britan." He handed Anne a piece of paper. Snatching it out of Kid's hand, she read it quickly as she got into a waiting elevator.

"British under assault. Son of the Dragon location unknown. London overshadowed by zeppelins-"

"That's where the message cuts off, I'm afraid," Kid said, a small hint of sadness in his voice.

"It's a start," Anne said, taking out a lighter and burning the message. "Get in contact with Atlantic Command, have them put a course in for Britain now. I want the Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore taken to NORAD and Groom Lake, respectively."

"Yes, ma'am," Kid said, as the elevator opened on the roof. "And who should we call out?"

"As many as we can spare, Kid," Anne said, boarding the waiting Blackhawk. "Get them all."

* * *

The sun finally slid below the horizon in New York, but the Square did a decent job of keeping the area bathed in light. Late night tourists and crowds jammed the spot, as police scanned the crowds.

"Hey, get a picture of me and the Jumbotron!" yelled Johnny, amazed by his first trip to the Big Apple. An Iowa farmboy all his life, the size of everything in New York left him in awe.

"Yeah, hold on a sec!" his girlfriend, Sarah, said, fiddling with the camera in her hands. Then she felt a person shove into her, and she yelped in surprise. Spinning around, she saw a huge space in the crowd, a group of people in rags at the center, all moaning and grunting. The woman just stood in place, even as Johnny tried to pull her away. She watched as five police officers made their way through the crowd, pepper spray and TASER weapons ready.

"Alright boys, let's get you all to a nice place to sleep tonight," Officer O'Conner said, holding his mace ready. "Just come over here, we'll get you a chauffeur and everything." Grabbing one of the men by the shoulder, O'Conner saw with shock that the vagrant's face was literally connected by a string. Backing away, he dropped his mace, the other officers and the crowd getting a better look at the vagrants. They were all covered in the barest clothes, their mouths filled with razor-like teeth. One of the officers was frantically calling for backup, two others firing TASERs at a pair of the bums, O'Conner and the fifth officer pulling their Glock 17s and firing, as the crowd scattered like birds. O'Conner saw the bullets tear through the monsters, heard their moans almost drowned by the screams as they were hit. One of the things grabbed Taranto by the sleeve and pulled him in close, ripping out a part of the man's neck, arterial blood spraying everywhere. Vincenzo and Carter both kept shocking the monsters, but to no avail, both finally throwing their guns down and firing themselves. To the back, O'Conner heard Murphy calling the Precinct, begging for backup, as he fumbled with his own weapon. There were more bums than could be handled, though, and a few grabbed those bowled over by the crowd, adding to the number. Runners were ploughed over by cars, others doing their best to barricade the buildings they had run into for some kind of shelter, as the mass of humanity tried to force it's way in.

To O'Conner's disbelief, he saw Time Square was emptying in only a few minutes. But he couldn't lose focus. The bums, if they were still bums, kept coming, and he felt a cold knot in his stomach when he saw Taranto moan as he got up with then. Finished firing at the center mass, he fired at the head, dropping the monster quickly. Like a flash, he grabbed his radio. "All units, all units, be advised, subjects are not stopped by shots to the center mass! Shoot'em in the head!"

* * *

The main board in the HQ of the NYPD was already handling the sending of units to Times Square when another call came in from Central Park about a group of muggers who were getting violent with the late night "clientele", and how backup was needed immediately. Then a call from Staten Island, and how the ferry building was being jammed with a horde of disorderly bums, and that the offiers needed backup fast. The officers at the desk were doing their level best to handle all the calls when someone shouted, "Everyone down to the lobby, we've got a mob out there!"

A few of the officers leapt from their consoles, the rest now flooded with calls for help from all over the city. As the others rushed down the stairs, they froze at the bottom, seeing over a dozen figures, all either shuffling towards, struggling with, or ripping apart the officers downstairs, as gunfire sounded everywhere.

* * *

"Monsignor!" Fr. Mahon said, running through the rectory of St. Patrick's Cathedral. His shouts woke some of the older religious, but what was happening trumped any concerns of secrecy. "Monsignor Raju!"

The middle-aged Indian priest walked out of his room, cassock over his neck and a bible in his hands. "Please, Ryan, you're waking the others," he said calmly.

"But Monsignor, out in Times Square, there's some sort of attack, ghouls are everywhere! The city is being swarmed!" Mahon said, motioning frantically outside.

"Then we'll do as we've planned," Raju said, revealing a .45 he had behind his back. "Call out the Hibernians and Sons. We've got work to do."

"Yes, Monsignor," Mahon said, running to get the other two Iscariots from their rooms and call up the auxiliaries for help. Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

Burt Gummer sat in his compound in Perfection, watching his TV as the news anchor talked as calmly as he could about the recent attacks on Washington and New York…and now the anchor was talking about San Francisco being attacked too. "_Perfect_," Burt said. "_First graboids, now this. Why didn't I take that land up in Alaska?_"

Then, from his window, a bright light shone into his rec room. Leaping out of his chair and grabbing an M16 from the wall, he grabbed a hand mirror to look out the window to see a black helicopter hovering over his home, others sounding like they were circling. Clutching his gun close to his body, he kept himself calm. This was the situation he'd be preparing years for.

"_Mr. Gummer, we are employees of Ms. Anne Warbucks. We need you for a job_."

Burt let his breath out as the voice came from the chopper's loudspeaker. It was the people who had talked to him after the Mexico job. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he walked outside and started waving to the chopper with the light, the Blackhawk landing nearby. Bending low, he went over to where a man in black BDUs was exiting the chopper. "Well, what'd you get me outta my house for?" Burt said jokingly.

"There's been attacks across the nation. Ms. Warbucks has ordered her organization to round up everyone who may be useful. Your name was on the list."

Burt quickly looked the man over. He didn't carry himself like an enemy, but was clearly alert the way he held himself, like he expected anything to happen. His weapon was well outfitted, and his body armor was high class. "How do I know you're really with Ms. Warbucks?" Burt asked, just to put to rest the small nagging part of his already overly-paranoid mind, wiggling his trigger finger for good measure.

With a sigh, the man took out a small phone from his pocket and pressed a button. Handing it to Burt, the survivalist took it and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Mr. Gummer?_" asked a female voice on the other end. "_It's Anne Warbucks. I trust you're calling to find out if it's really me or not._"

"That'd be the size of it, ma'am," Burt said, feeling his edge ease away. "Alright, I'll go with your boys."

"_Glad to hear it._" With that, the other end hung up, and Burt handed the phone back to the man.

"Get whatever weapons you think you'll need to handle the situation," the man said. Fifteen minutes later, Burt was carrying out an M16, two pistol holsters with .45 M1911s, four spare magazines for each weapon, and finally, the piece de resistance, his Grizzly rifle.

"This should be enough," Burt said, as the agent led him onto the chopper.

* * *

"Alright boys, let's get up, we're on alert!" Sgt. Redford said, barging into the barracks of B Company's second squad. The soldiers groaned and protested. "Shut up, all a ya! You've heard the news, we've got to be ready for anything!"

"But Sarge, that's New York, Washington, and San Francisco," Sweetwater said. "We don't got to worry about that."

"He's right boss," Haggard said, backing up his friend. "Odds of them calling us out are slim to none."

"You ever hear of irony, Haggard?" Redford said with an evil smile. "We're gonna be the first ones in the White House before they send in anyone important!"

The groans from the barracks could be heard yards away, as Redford goaded his charges into getting ready.

* * *

"Any word on the situation?" Gen. Hammond said, pacing through NORAD's command center. Right now, his base was the safest command in the country, and he intended to make sure that no one got the better of him or his men.

"We've got a message from Ms. Warbucks, sir," one of the airmen said. "The President Pro Tempore is being sent to Groom Lake. We're to guard the Speaker of the House."

"Great," Hammond grunted sarcastically. The Speaker of the House was third in line for presidential succession, and he was being moved to a facility that was less secure than Groom Lake. Ms. Warbucks clearly didn't have much hope of Mr. Hastert surviving the coming night. And he was being brought into Cheyenne Mountain. "Have all security forces put on full alert, I want all personnel armed and on guard. Anyone without clearance shown on their person is to be detained immediately."

"Affirmative, sir," the airman said, relaying the orders through the facility.

* * *

Markus James rode his bike down Corson St. in Bristol, PA, currently unaware of the chaos across the countr, though he was surprised to see a lot more police cars out than usual. But it wasn't his concern. He was just a kid, riding his bike down the street. Until he neared the Ancient Order of Hibernians. Then he stopped dead.

Before today, he only knew the Hibernians as a bunch of Irish dudes who went inside to get drunk and have fun. But now they were all lined up outside on their small parking lot, each one armed and in a dark green uniform, all wearing a beret with a small insignia on it. Hearing a rumbling noise on the next street, he looked over to see a group of vans a SWAT team would use turning the corner, shoving other cars out of the way like toys. Watching in awe, he saw one of the Irish bark an order, and the Hibernians started loading into the trucks like in a movie. Markus felt his muscles shaking, he legs starting to give. Was he going to be found? Were these people going to kill him?

Almost to answer his question, one of the Irish, a large man with a trimmed beard, walked over from his place to where Markus was standing, gun in hand. Markus was petrified, every ounce of his being wanting to turn and pedal as fast as he could, and being unable to. All he could do was whimper as the man walked up, gently put his hand on the boy's shoulder, and said, "Get home, kid, you'll want your parents to know you're safe."

As Sean watched the boy speed back to his house, he looked over to his own home, a few yards away. His wife had already locked all the door and put metal shutters over the windows, putting his boys to bed and getting out the AR-15 they had gotten as a "gift" from one of Sean's cousins in the IRA. Shouldering his own rifle, he marched to his men, getting on the carrier and settling in for the long ride to New York.

A similar sight played out at the Sons of Italy lodge in Bristol, lines of men in tan uniforms, wearing bush hats with a lion's pin on them. Their APCs arrived at about the same time, and the two groups were soon off on the road, the green APCs of the A.O.H. and the tan APCs of the Sons forming a small covoy, meeting up with others along the way up the emptying Jersey turnpike, on their way to New York.

* * *

**Before anyone raises any points, I'm a member of the AOH, and the guys would be flattered by the performance they're about to get.**

**As always, reviews are welcome, and if you still haven't read "And Shine Heaven Now", Google it, it will help you understand what's happening.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The White House was probably the closest it would ever be to resembling the guard at Ft. Knox. Police and FBI agents swarmed the area, along with dozens of other agents from various agencies, brought together due to the massive impact of the event. The military was busy gathering information on what was happening around the world, and the CIA and other intelligence agencies were gathering whatever information they could on who might be responsible.

"How did this happen, Scully?" Mulder asked, as he and his partner put on their vests. "All our technology, our security, and someone actually gets inside this deep and attacks the cabinet. Is all our protection really that worthless?"

"Mulder, please, for just this once, focus on what's actually happening?" Scully said, checking her weapon. "This isn't anything to do with the paranormal, we just have to focus on the task at hand."

"But don't you find any of this suspicious, Scully?" Mulder said, either not noticing or ignoring the slight shake in Scully's voice. "One man manages to get into the White House, during a cabinet meeting no less, and takes out nearly all the Secret Service and Marines inside?"

"So whoever did this has good resources!" Scully said, sliding a magazine into the SiG. "Mulder, worry about 'how' later, just focus on 'now'!"

Finally getting the point, Mulder walked off, watching as the local police did their best to keep the news away. Snipers ran across rooftops and SWAT teams did their best to find detailed blueprints that weren't for simple tourists.

"Agent Mulder!" Turning at the gruff voice, Mulder saw A.D. Skinner walking towards him. "I want you and Agent Scully in full tactical gear in ten minutes."

"Sir?" Mulder asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You've been tasked with going inside the White House with a team the Army is sending in. Right now our priority is the safety of the President. The team will get here in JESUS!" Skinner yelled, as Mulder ducked, pulling the A.D. down with him. In the windows of the West Wing, the windows were lit up with gunfire, and the radio came alive.

"_What the hell just happened!_" "_**We're those aimed for us?**_" "**Get us some snipers up there to tell us what's going on!**" "_I think POTUS was in there!_" "**Wounded?**" "_Unknown, sir!_"

Rising up from behind the car, Skinner looked back at the press barrier and saw a few of the cameras pointed squarely at the windows. Cursing, he turned to Mulder. "Mulder, I've gotten my orders from my superiors, and you and Scully are going inside!"

"And which superiors would those be, sir?" Mulder said. Scowling, Skinner stormed off to inform Scully, as Mulder took out his own weapon to check. "_Going inside to make sure the President isn't dead. Wondferful_," he throught, sliding the SiG back into his holster.

* * *

"What the hell is that thing?" one of the black suited agents asked, as soon as Burt was finished putting his headphones over his Atlanta Hawks hat.

"What, this?" Burt said, patting his Grizzly. "This is a rifle of my own personal design," Burt said with a smile. "The Grizzly single sho, based on a WWI anti-tank cartridge. This little number will make short work of any problems we will come across."

"What's it fire?" asked one of the agents.

"BMG .50 caliber," Burt said. "Only drawback is that single-shot capacity, but I'm working on that. So, what's the situation in Los Angeles?"

"Zombies, an unknown killer, and there have been reports of a giant flying creature."

Burt raised his eyebrows and whistled. "So what do you need me to do?"

"You survived two encounters with creatures no one had ever had any encounters with and survived," the agent said. "We consider you more than capable of handling these incidents."

"I see," Burt said, leaning back in his seat. "Any of these 'hawks got a GAU-17 door-mounted?"

"Bravo three does, sir," the agent answered. "You want us to use that on the UFO?"

"Affirmative," Burt said. "And the rest of you are coming with me?"

"Yes, sir," the agent said. "We've been ordered to be your backup should something go wrong."

"Then we'll need two more people with us," Burt said. "We need to stop in Reno!"

* * *

"We're ready when you are," Rally said, getting into the chopper with Minnie right behind, barely giving any time for the pilot to land. "So, we're going to be sent into the White House?"

"Of course," Anne said, as the Blackhawk lurched up. "I wouldn't send in anyone but my best gunfighter, Rally. But to make sure you succeed, we'll be sending you in with backup."

"Backup?" May said, confused. "We've never needed backup before!"

"This is a FREAK in an enclosed location, and has a ready supply of ghouls to use," Anne answered, crossing her legs. "As good as you are, Rally, I want to make sure to protect one of my many investments."

"I understand that," Rally said, strapping herself in. "But who's going in with us?"

"A group of soldiers from one of the Army's best Special Forces units," Anne said with a smile. "Along with two FBI agents who have become quite the specialists in dealing with the unusual."

"You've briefed them all, right?" May said, pointing at Anne accusingly. "Because we told you how we feel about using meat shields-"

"No redshirts this time, dear," Anne said, going back to her data-pad. "Now we'll be arriving at O'Hare in a few minutes. We're getting the floor plans to the mansion now. Memorize them and put them to good use."

* * *

"What now?" Vincenzo said, firing from behind the New World theater, as the zombies kept coming. O'Conner and the other surviving cops had been forced to scatter in the face of so many foes, and the radio had no good news. Precincts across the city were being inundated with calls for help, and the streets went to chaos, car wrecks and random shootings from panicked civilians everywhere. "Should we get into one of the high-rises?"

"And do what!" Murphy said, nursing a bite to the arm. "Those things'll still be out there waiting for us!"

"At least I'm thinking, not just standing there!" Vincenzo said, still firing at the closing horde.

"Like you can talk, you weren't bit!" Murphy spat back.

"We have to worry about that," Carter said quietly, reloading his pistol. "You know the story. You get bit, you're toast."

"Don't remind me," O'Conner spat, aiming for the nearest monster. "Look, we'll try to get him to a doctor and see if anything can't be done, okay?"

"Okay," Carter said. "But I'm not gonna hear your regretting it later."

O'Conner glared at Carter, but went back to firing at the oncoming ghouls, when a bullet winged off the side of the building and hit Vincenzo in the right arm. Shocked, O'Conner looked across the small plaza to see a most disturbing sight.

At the front of the mass of monsters, O'Conner swore he saw Taranto shuffling before the rest, his pistol up and firing. "Move, move now!" he said, grabbing Murphy, as Carter pulled Vincenzo away, as other stragglers from Times Square did their best to run as well. Running up 50th past Rockefeller Center, the officers heard gunfire in the distance, along with…a prayer? Pushing themselves as fast as Murphy could handle, they saw St. Patricks was quickly being filled, as three priests fired into the zombies, a fourth speaking into a microphone as he fired towards the beasts. "_Lo, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil,_" the priest said, his accent finally adding a distinct voice in the chaos. Civilians quickly crammed themselves into the Church, as black suited men did their best to control the chaos and fight alongside the priests. The officers decided that some help was better than none, and speed for the cathedral. As the three other officers waited by the Rock Center Cafe, O'Conner ran to one of the black suited men on the ground, who immediately took notice of the police officer. "What's going on here!" O'Conner said. "Who's in charge!"

"Monsignor Raju," the man said, his face showing he was both amazed and elated that a police officer had made it their way. "Are there any others with you?"

"Three," O'Conner said. "Listen, we got wounded, and-"

"Were any of your men bitten?" the suited man said urgently.

"Well…yeah, but can we treat him?" O'Conner asked, caught off guard now with the man's sudden interest in injuries.

"Bring him with me," the man said. Nodding, O'Conner went back to his fellow officers.

"Okay, guys," he said, practically having to shout to be heard above the loudspeakers. "They'll take us in. Murphy, you okay to walk?"

"Yeah," the officer grunted, getting up and clearly in pain. "Let's go."

Vincenzo and Carter supporting Murphy, O'Conner and the agent led the way through the pressing crowd, where the black suited man led the way to the steps of St. Pats. "You three stay here," he said, as two more suited men rushed over and grabbed Murphy by the arms, O'Conner now worried, seeing the men lead Murphy to the monsignor.

"Hey, wait a second, he's got to get to a doctor," O'Conner said, starting to walk towards Murphy, only to be held back. Looking at the man, he saw the suit had his face turned away, saddened by what was clearly about to happen. Eyes widening, O'Conner pushed against the man. "Murphy! Get outta there!"

By now, Murphy was barely coherent, much less capable of understanding a warning from a brother officer. His eyes were actually glassing over, his mouth open and drooling. Maybe it was O'Conner's imagination, but he swore he saw the skin on Murphy's hand changing from a pale white to a strange bluish color. By now Vincenzo and Carter were already trying to help, being held back by another black suited man and a young priest. Vincenzo sprayed the suit with his mace, only to be tackled by another, this one wielding an M16 and pointing it at the other cops, as civilians that had originally come to the cathedral for sanctuary started running farther away. Watching helplessly, O'Conner and the others saw as Murphy was literally dragged to the monsignor.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Raju turned to see two of the security guards, holding between them an afflicted police officer. Shaking his head sadly, he knelt down and stroked the poor boy's face, feeling the skin cool as the boy's life faded away. "Be at peace, my son," he said, pointing the .45 at Murphy's nose and firing.

For a split-second, O'Conner saw time freeze. He saw the blood flying from the back of Murphy's head, the middle-aged priest looking sadly down at the sight. Looking to his left, he saw Vincenzo and Carter still struggling with their own restrainers, only for more black suits to arrive to keep them in check.

"Peace be with you," Raju said, putting his pistol back in its holster and walking over to the officers. "I can understand that you are probably upset with me."

"Screw you!" Carter shouted, as the black suits continued to hold the officers back. "You telling me we didn't have a way to fix him!"

"The darkness had spread too greatly," Raju said. O'Conner noticed that, despite the sorrow in the man's voice, he was showing little emotion at the shooting. Hell, even the black suited men had shown some looks of sympathy. "We couldn't have saved the boy even if we had tried."

"And who the hell are you!" Vincenzo spat. "I don't know many priests who tote .45s, and that's after 12 years of catechism!"

Raju looked away. "I'm am…not a normal priest."

"No, really! I would never have guessed!" Vincenzo snarked. "Who are you, damnit!"

"We are Iscariot," said a young priest behind Vincenzo, as he reloaded his pistols.

"We grasp in our right hands the dagger and the poisons," said a second, firing at the monsters.

"We grasp in our left hands thirty pieces of silver and a halter of straw," said a third, pushing a button, blasting claymore mines into the advancing mass.

"We are apostles, yet not apostles," the four said as one. "We are adherents, yet not adherents. We are believers, yet not believers. We are traitors, yet not traitors."

O'Conner watched as the priests recited the frightening creed. He'd never considered himself the greatest church-goer, but these priests were putting the fear of God right in him and anyone else who would be listening. The priests just kept firing into the monsters, actually taking out more than the men armed with rifles. Small explosions lit up the street, cars burning from their punctured gas tanks. Burning shapes stumbled about in the mayhem, until they were picked off at last.

"Thereby we fall into hell in cabal, lined up in square formation, to do battle with the 7,405,926 demons of hell!" the Indian said, firing at the monsters one handed, holding his bible high in the air.

"Apocalypse now!" they all yelled, firing into the mass. O'Conner and the others just watched, a thousand questions trumped by one single thought.

"_What the hell is going on!_"

* * *

"Alright, all of you listen up," Commander Harris, leader of the Bristol A.O.H. said, raising his voice above the engine of the APC. "The situation is that all divisions north of Virginia are to proceed to New York and assist in securing the city. Divisions to the South are to assist in defending Washington, and out west our divisions are going to L.A."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Sean said, some of the other Hibernians nodding in agreement.

"We're going to move in and secure St. Pats while the Sons take care of Central Park. Once all the ghouls are neutralized we can spread through the city and assist the authorities in restoring order." Harris grinned. "We've been getting ready for this day for decades, gents. Now it's time to show the world what we're made of."

The men inside smiled, until one of the older members spoke up. "And what about the non-catholics?"

Harris' smile fell instantly. "We haven't gotten any information on them yet. Until then, our orders stand to save however many civilians we can find."

The men nodded, but Harris knew they weren't ready to kill anyone but monsters.

* * *

Hell had come to Mildenhall. Buildings and vehicles burned into the night. Roving groups of undead staggered about, as the great aircraft burned in their hangars and on runways. Fuel tanks exploded with enough force to shake the ground, as the two traitors who had unleashed this hell went from building to building, killing anyone who stood in their way. Only by masking themselves in the scent of a ghoul did Mendez and Figgins escape detection.

"Christ this stuff stinks!" Mendez spat, as he and Figgins made their way behind what was a piece of base housing to what looked like a still working Ford. Breaking the glass with his rifle butt, Mendoza worked the key slot, and failing that, pried the underside open and tried his hands at the wires. Figgins just stood outside, his mind racing to comprehend what was happening. All he saw were the burning buildings and bodies.

"So…So many bodies…" he stammered, seeing what he truly hoped was a doll's arm coated in blood.

Looking back, Mendez realized Figgins was starting to lose it. "Quick, Figgins, where are you from?"

"W-Wisconsin," Figgins said, turning away. "Racine, Wisconsin."

"And did you have any girlfriends in Racine?" Mendez said, fiddling with the two wires he figured would start the car.

"J-j-just one," Figgins said. "Jeannie…are you almost done!" he shouted.

"Almost," Mendez said, connecting the wires and hearing the motor start. "Yes! Now get in, Figgins, before we get found!" With a laugh, Mendez slammed the door, waiting for Figgins to leap in too. Nothing. "Figgins, what the hell are you doing?" he said, following the airman's eyes to the front door. "Aw shit."

A full family was making its way from the house. The father was still in his uniform, a captain by the pins. The mother was missing an arm, and their son had his stomach ripped clean out. Mendez didn't want to dwell on the mewling sound that reminded him of a baby. Jumping out and grabbing Figgins, he threw his wingman inside and slammed on the gas, pulling out and speeding towards the front gate. "Don't worry, buddy, we just have to work together, okay?"

"So many bodies," Figgins said, curling up in his seat. Cursing, Mendez hit the gas, speeding away from the houses.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Despite Anne's orders to get Mr. Thurmond and Mr. Hastert to their respective bases, there was no real way to move either of them fast enough without risking serious injury. Men of their ages simply couldn't handle a mach 2 fighter jet, so a C-21 Learjet from Andrews Airbase would have to do. Both men were under heavy guard, both from Secret Service and Air Force personnel. Their aides would be brought in separate craft, if only for some false sense of security. Right now, however, the pair were being led onto the jet, humvees and security forces surrounding the runway like a ring of thorns.

"I don't like this," Hastert said nervously. "What guarantee do we have that the other bases don't have traitors either!"

"Just think for a second, then," Thurmond said. "These monsters…these things, they've so far only appeared in Los Angeles and New York, and the White House. So they're aiming for our center of power and our largest cities. If they wanted to destroy us, they would have targeted our military installations."

"So they want to dismantle our government," Hastert said. "But not our military. It's like they almost want a fight."

"So who are they?" Thurmond said, making his way up the steps as fast as his legs could take him. "They're not Russians?"

"No," Hastert said, entering the cabin. "What little coherent footage we have shows no weapons fire from the enemy, only our police."

"And is there any other news?" Thurmond said, taking a seat.

"We've lost contact with England," Hastert said. "All of it. Paris is under attack, and Rome and Japan are under assault from combatants unknown."

"The whole world is fighting again," Thurmond whispered. "My God, who could do something like this!"

"We got one last look at London when communications dropped," Hastert said, handing a manila folder to Thurmond. Opening it, Thurmond saw a fire ablaze in London, forming an image he'd seen so many times before in his time in Europe.

"Nazis…" he said, his voice barely registering as their guards made their way inside. "Where did they come from!"

"Unknown," Hastert said, strapping himself in, as the plane began to taxi. "But they took zeppelins to make the attack," he said, rubbing forehead. "Zeppelins! We're not dealing with any force that has a lick of common humanity."

"_When did you figure that out?_" Thurmond said, as the plane took off.

* * *

Across America and the world, chaos was erupting as news spread. Families huddled around TVs and radios, some with computers looking for any information beyond the veil. In Russia, the military was put on full alert, with martial law being declared in certain areas, while the Moscow government did it's best to prevent full on mutiny from some of its divisions. Europe was in frenzy, as Germany tried to coordinate NATO's response, while Belgium and other smaller nations closed their borders. The Middle East was afire with joy, hearing that much of Europe and America was being destroyed, Kalashnikovs and fireworks lighting up the sky as Israel closed its own borders and put all cities in a state of martial law. Since most of the population was already required to serve, it was a relatively quick institution. Canada and Mexico had also started putting heavier presences on their own borders, the American border guards trying their best to figure out what was happening.

The states each had started to call up the National Guard, though who was in actual control of the country was very much in doubt. Fox news and MSNBC were already down, the studios in New York unable to broadcast. Local broadcasters and CNN tried their best to keep the people informed and calm, but the lack of real information hindered them greatly. The main messages repeated, however, were to keep calm and not do anything rash. But fear is a powerful force, and with America's love of firearms, many accidental shooting victims filled hospitals nationwide. Armed militias used the panic wisely, making their own small declarations, of independence, of revolution, of religious endtimes. KKK members roamed their neighborhoods in the South, arguing with the police over the right course of action. Texans literally started forming spur of the moment militias, as small town sheriffs in the Midwest pulled their spare deputies from their houses, and putting up pathetically small roadblocks to their towns. In Chicago, an elderly reporter name Carl Kolchak was already speeding through the streets, carrying whatever paranormal wards he could find. Luckily for him, Chicago didn't rate high enough on Millenium's radar. Only its usual paranormal inhabitants were there that night, and even they were quieted by the attacks.

The military was on the move, the Joint Chiefs rapidly mobilizing all forces. Bases were put on high alert, fighter jets and helicopters patrolling the skies, as ships were launched to patrol the shores. But again, the lack of a commander-in-chief made things difficult, and the chiefs were severely hindered in trying to carry out their duties. Federal agencies, from NSA to FEMA, were running around in panic, trying to follow protocol put in place for emergencies that had a president to give some of the orders. However, one federal agency was currently active, and sealed off from the rest of the world.

"Situation?" Zed asked, watching the main screen, as the twins pressed away, showing the massive horde of creatures stumbling through New York.

"All ambassadors have called in," L said. "This isn't the work of any known intergalactic species, let alone the ones who didn't sign the Treaty of Albion."

"Lovely," Zed spat. "So where are our agents?"

"J was on 52nd St. when he last reported in." L looked a little nervous. "Zed, what exactly are these things?"

"They aren't our specialty, that's for sure," Zed answered. "Everyone, I think it's time we had a talk," he bellowed, bringing the attention of the other agents, and various alien species held up by the attack. "Now, I know all of you are watching and wondering what's going on out there. Well, the truth is that we really don't know." A murmur swept through the building. "These creatures, whatever they are, were not created by an alien race. They came from Earth." Now the aliens started talking to each other nervously. All this time they had known Earth as a safe planet, a refuge. True, the natives could be quite hostile, but they were usually prepared for a mugging or light continental war. This was nothing anyone could have predicted.

"And we are not the only secret of the American government," Zed continued, the twins actually stopping to look around. "You see, there is another organization, the Warbucks Organization, which I'm sure you all know about from its business dealings with the American government." Everyone was talking now. Anyone who came to Earth knew about the Warbucks dynasty. "If I'm right, they are the ones handling this right now, and we cannot afford to have them stand alone. They need our help. All agents are ordered to suit up and move."

The men and women in the building leaped up and started running for the armory and garage, grabbing black jackets and photon rays. Zed, meanwhile, picked up a small earbud and said, "Warbucks, Anne."

* * *

The jet was already taking off when Anne saw her data-pad show the head of the MIB calling. Smiling, she answered. "Hello, Zed. It's been a while since the Gulf of Tonkin."

"_Can you blame me?_" he said. "_Anne, what do you need us to do?_"

"Hold off," she answered, hearing Rally and May go over their gear. "Unless a more powerful vampire-"

"_Vampire?_" Zed said, a few of the MIBs also looking over in disbelief. "_You're saying these are _vampires_?_"

"You sound rather shocked for a man who deals with ETs on a daily basis," Anne said, slightly confused at the man's shock.

"_That's because ETs have a scientific basis,_" Zed answered. "_How could vampires do all this? I thought they just sucked blood?_"

"I'll explain it all once I'm finished with the White House," Anne said. "Until then, unless something major happens, just hold off and defend your own house."

"_Roger,_" Zed said. "_Zed out._"

"Who was that?" Rally said, sliding her CZ-75 back into her holster.

"A friend," Anne said, as the plane started to bank. "A very valuable friend."

"Oh, a _boyfriend_, Anne?" May said with a giggle.

"A one-track mind is giving you too much credit, May," Anne laughed.

"So what about us?" Rally said. "Who are these guys we're going in with?"

"A special ops squad from the US Army," Anne said, typing in the information on her data-pad. "They come from the 222nd Army Battalion, B-Company. A group of trained experts with years of experience under their belts. You'll also be accompanying two FBI agents with experience in paranormal matters. If you want to clear the White House, these people are exactly what you need."

"I hope you're right," Rally said, looking at her watch. It was only 8:35, and already it felt like the night had gone on hours. "Has Becky found anything?"

"Europe's in a panic, but we can't afford to worry about that." Anne looked Rally in the eye with a glare. "If you can't handle this, Ms. Vincent, I will take my services elsewhere and kick you and your partner out here and now."

"You doubt me, Anne?" Rally said with a grin.

"We'll see," Anne said, sitting back in her chair.

* * *

"Alright, load it up, boys, we've got work to do!" Sgt. Redford barked, supervising the squad loading on to the 5-ton. "And leave those damn cameras here, we're fighting, not sightseeing!"

"Aw, lighten up, Sarge!" Haggard said, waving his disposable camera around. "It's probably the first time a lot of us have seen the inside of the White House, we just want to remember it!"

"I'll give you a trip to the hospital to remember," Redford said, snatching the camera away. "Now get on in that truck!"

"So what's the mission, Sarge?" one of the soldiers asked, as Redford took his place in the back.

"We're going in," Redford said. "We're gonna be escorting a few special agents inside, which means they don't expect us to survive, and be nothing more than meat shields for these guys."

The men looked at each other, confused. "Uh, but isn't that what we are, Sarge?" Sweetwater said, shrugging. "I mean, what about Desert Storm?"

"Or that time we had to defend that Kuwait highway?" Haggard said, laughing. "Remember that?"

"Oh yeah," Sweetwater said, having a brief flashback. "That was a fun one. I was washing sand out of my hair for weeks, Sarge."

"Maybe if you kept your damn hair shorter you wouldn't have that problem," Redford growled. "Now listen, the mission is simple. We're gonna escort four special agents through the White House. As always, we're expendable, so Lord knows they're gonna shove us right through the doors once we breach."

"Oh, am I doing that, Sarge?" Haggard said, a wide smile breaking over his face. "You know I'm the best, please?"

"For once, I can say no," Redford said with a chuckle. "They have their own expert with them, meaning for once we can avoid dealing with unnecessary damage."

"Sorry, Haggard," Sweetwater said, patting his friend on the back. "I know you were looking forward to this."

"What about the enemy, Sarge?" one of the soldiers asked. "Who're we going up against?"

"Unknown," Redford said. "All I've been told is that they're bad enough to take down the Pres' bodyguards and anyone else in the White House."

The men of B-Company were the dregs of the Army, kept around only because they had some redeemable skill or trait. They weren't hard to shake up, they'd been around war long enough to know that certain things were inevitable, like the chance of a buddy dying on the field. But to take out trained bodyguards for the US President, in the most secure mansion on Earth, made a few of the men look up in shock.

"I know," Redford said. "Now get set. We'll be there in a half hour."

* * *

Los Angeles, the City of the Angels. Now home to marauding monsters and frightening demises. The police were overwhelmed, forced to handle not only the attacks, but the rampaging mobs of poor who were now taking their pick of the best electronics and equipment they could find. As long as they steered clear of the mass of undead. Skid row was hit the worst, the thousands of homeless ample recruits for the new army. Grumman's was swarmed, wannabe music stars and screaming tourists unable to flee from the creatures. Parker Center was surrounded, the upper floors blocked off as best as the officers inside could make it, the lower offices filled with screams and bullets. Koreatown was quite similar, armed merchants trying to defend what was nearly taken from them during the riots of '92. Chinatown was unaffected, really, but what would later become the Defense of the Disappeared Shop became a whole story in and of itself.

This was meaningless, however, as Det. Riggs and Det. Murtaugh battled their through the monsters, Murtaugh driving as Riggs fired from the passenger's seat.

"Damnit, Riggs!" Murtaugh yelled, as another monster grabbed onto his side mirror. "You just _had_ to look into that drug deal for a few more minutes, didn't you!"

"Least we know he's not gonna be dealing anymore!" Riggs laughed, sliding back inside to reload. "So Rog, any word from the station?"

"Not one," Murtaugh growled. "The whole city's going to hell, and here we are in the middle of it!"

"Could be worse," Riggs said grinning. "We could be stuck working an Internal Affairs gig!" Laughing, he leaned out the window again and started shooting, when a large shape passed overhead. "What was that!" Riggs said, looking up.

"I didn't see it," Murtaugh said, "I was too busy trying to keep our sorry asses alive!"

"You're not doing a very good job of it," Riggs snarked, watching as the shots ripped into the things, doing almost no damage. "Jesus, these things are worse than someone on angel dust."

"Firing for the head?" Murtaugh asked.

"Head, heart, groin, nothing gets to these things," Riggs said, reloading again. "How 'bout your family, any word?"

"Got a call from my wife, she said the department has set up a cordon around the city, they're holding as best they can." He shook his head. "Riggs, I want to make sure I'm with my family during my last days." He looked at Riggs. "If that doesn't happen, I'll feed you to those things myself!"

"Duly noted, Rog," Riggs said, finished reloading. "C'mon, it's not like it's the end of the world."

Murtaugh sighed. "I'm getting' too old for this-"

"Shit!" Riggs said, ducking back inside the car, as bullets bounced off. "Those things have guns, Rog!"

"What?" Murtaugh said, before bullets tore through the front windshield. "But those things don't even look alive! How the hell can they be using guns?"

"Dunno," Riggs said. "Least they can't shoot for shit."

A bullet dinged against the hood. "Please shut up!" Murtaugh said, plowing through the crowd. "If we live, I'm gonna smack you silly!"

* * *

"Shit," Mendez said, seeing the gate blocked by a humvee that had collided with a Jeep. "Sorry, Figgins, we've gotta get walking."

"W-w-walking?" Figgins said, finally out of his fetal position. "W-where! There's no one who can help us for m-m-miles!"

"London's just to the south," Mendez said. "We just have to make it there, that's probably where the response is being coordinated."

"But we could hide out here!" Figgins said. "No one's been here! This was just an accident!"

Shaking his head, Mendez pointed to the passenger door of the jeep. "No chance," he said. "Unless that's just a prop."

Looking over, Figgins saw an arm lying out of the jeep, twitching faintly. Mendez thought he heard a whimper behind him. "C'mon, Figgins, those…things, they'll find us if we stay still." Nodding, Figgins followed as Mendez wiggled his way through the accident, doing his best to keep from looking at the arm. "So, why didn't we just drive through the fence?" he asked, landing on the other side of the accident.

"From what I saw? Those shambling things, they aren't too bright," Figgins said. "Tearing out a part of the fence would have let those things out in a second."

"Oh," Figgins said. "So, how do we get to London?"

"First things first," Mendez said, seeing how deserted the base perimeter was. "Where is everyone?"

"No, no, a dozen times,_ no_ Burt!" Earl said. After having Burt suddenly land on the front lawn of the park and start asking for help in another monster hunt, Earl was about ready to lose it. "Don't you get it? I'm _done _with that crap!"

"Yeah, same here!" Val said, slamming his foot down on the floor of the offices of "_MonsterLand_", now closed for national emergency. "Listen, Burt, we know you're the kind of guy who is gonna handle these kinds of thing, but we aren't!"

"Gentlemen!" Burt said, opening his arms. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"No, this is _not_ a 'once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity' Burt!" Earl said. "This? This whole park was the opportunity! Escaping Perfection was the opportunity!"

"Both of us meeting our wives was-" Val said, cutting himself off. For all he knew, Burt still felt something for the former Mrs. Gummer, and he didn't want to cause any unwanted problems with Burt so heavily armed and backed up.

"Boys, don't you know what's happening out there?" Burt said, motioning to the windows of the office. "We're under attack!"

"And it's not our problem!" Earl said. "Burt, we aren't going, and that's final!"

Burt shook his head. "Now I've seen everything," he said, putting his hands on his hips. "You and Val, giving up, right when a golden opportunity is right in front of you!"

"This ain't no 'golden' opportunity, it's a death wish!" Val said. "Burt, we are not going with you!"

Burt finally had to admit defeat. "Fine, fine!" he said, turning towards the door. "But when this all comes crashing down, I do _not_ want you two blaming me!"

Grady was outside while all this was taking place, listening intently as the two black-clad men nearby watched and waited for the door to open. "Hey, Burt about what you said-"

"Forget it, Grady, you aren't coming unless Val and Earl are coming." Burt took off his cap and scratched his head. "I mean, I don't know what changed for them, Grady."

"Life, Burt," Grady said, shrugging. "Wives, jobs, steady income, they've got it all." Grady shook his head in sympathy. "I mean, why go off to kill monsters when they can make a profit off of them here?"

"Because those monsters are still out there!" Burt said. "They're out there wandering the streets, and someone has to stop them! And if those two cowards aren't going to, then I will!"

Grady nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "Okay Burt, I can respect that. But there's just one thing."

"Oh yeah?" Burt asked over his shoulder as he and the agents walked to the chopper. "What's that?"

"I'm coming too," Grady said. "Who knows how much publicity this could bring in!"

Burt looked at Grady, then smiled. "Get aboard, son, we'll show those beasts what it's like to mess with the proper equipment!"

Watching Burt and Grady get on the chopper, Val shook his head. "You think we made the right move, Earl? Letting them go alone without us?"

"What, you're worried about Burt of all people?" Earl said, shocked. "Val, if anyone was ready to survive the living dead, it was gonna be Burt!"

"Yeah, but he's not holed up in no compound," Val said. "What if…you know…"

"It won't happen," Earl said with finality. "He's a born survivor. Now c'mon, help me barricade the doors!"

* * *

**America According to Simple Heroes**

**Nationwide - Warbucks Organization**

**Ancient Order of Hibernians - **Established in Ireland to protect both the clergy and the people from protestant threats, the AOH quickly found itself an auxiliary of Section 13 as a ready reserve pool.

**Order Sons of Italy In America **- Founded in the US as a fraternal order, the overwhelming number of Catholics in the orgainzation found itself made an auxiliary alongside the American AOH.

**Men In Black -** An "Above Top Secret" federal organization, the MIBs are the world's first in defense against aliens, though more "religious" matters are usually outside of their jurisdiction.

**Burt Gummer **- A survivalist with a record of living through the impossible, Gummer was recruited by Anne because of his uncanny knack for making it through alive to another day.

**Bad Company - **A ragtag team of Army rejects, B-Comapny is where the Army sends it's "recyclables"; not quite trash, but not worth much more. The soldiers are usually unprofessional, uncouth, and unphased.

**Any questions at all, or if you just like the story, please, drop me a review. I would greatly appreciate it, and will even give those who review a hint as to *gasp* Who the next character will be!**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

St. Patricks was packed to capacity, hundreds of fleeing civilians herded inside, either looking around nervously or crying to the ceiling. Some tried to hide bites or other wounds from the creatures, but they were quickly found and taken to the insides of the church by the security guards or the priests themselves. Others were quickly brought up to help barricade the doors, shoving what few moveable objects there were to the massive wooden doors at the front, as Carter tried again and again to contact anyone, while Vincenzo and O'Conner coordinated with the priests.

"So you're saying that Washington and L.A. are under attack as well," Vincenzo said, slapping his palm on the edge of the altar. "Great, just flippin' great."

"I know all this must be hard to believe," Fr. Mahon said, trying to get some feeling of empathy across. "But the Church has been battling these horrors for centuries, we know what we are doing."

"Then why'd these things get so far into the city!" Vincenzo said. "If you guys were so damn good, where the hell are all the para-nuns!"

"Hey, Vincenzo!" O'Conner said, quieting down his angered partner, pulling the Italian's ear close. "These aren't the same priests we've had in school, pal, these are the ones from a bad horror flick. So unless you want to feel what Jesus felt," O'Conner said, motioning towards the cross. "Then I suggest we just go along. Now," he said, looking at the Monsignor. "How do we kill these things?"

"A large enough bullet to the head or heart kills these beasts instantly. However, we did not anticipate an attack anywhere inside of America's borders." Raju shook his head. "If only we'd had more time to prepare."

"Hey, wait up," Vincenzo said, before O'Conner could cut him off. "You still have communication outside the city? Well for Christ's sake, padre, get talking, get some help down here!"

"We only have communication with the Vatican," Raju said. "We're not exactly well liked in the United States government."

"I can't imagine why," Vincenzo said, filling the table with bitter sarcasm. "So what do we do, just wait to die?"

"No, we aren't going to die," Mahon said. "We have enough food and supplies to last us at least three months, we just need to gather as many ghouls here as possible, make it easier for the military to clear everything up."

O'Conner sighed. "Carter, anything on your end?"

Carter shook his head, saddened. "All I've heard is screaming and shooting," he said, and his face told O'Conner the whole story. Carter had grown up in Harlem, had decided to take his first job on the force in Harlem. He'd seen the blood and death before Giuliani had cleaned things up. To see him shaken was a bad sign to Vincenzo and O'Conner. "But I also heard something from Plaza. They said that they heard a radio transmission from Jersey, something about armored cars coming up the Jersey turnpike, painted green and tan."

"Praise God," Raju said, the other priests crossing themselves.

"What? Who's inside those cars?" O'Conner said. If these priests were thanking God, something was up.

"Troops, officer," Raju said, smiling. "Troops trained specifically for a night like this." Smiling, he walked towards the pulpit. "I will say some words to the people inside. Please, continue to confer with Fr. Mahon on our next course of action." Turning, the Indian priest walked towards the altar, his robes billowing along the way.

"So how long until the drugs wear off?" Vincenzo said, rubbing his forehead. "I always thought my uncle Tony was kidding when he said his reporter talked about this stuff."

"Watch your words, officer," Mahon said. "That is Mons. Raju, the savior of Deli that you're talking about. He was the man who killed the rakshasha of Mumbai, who destroyed the djinn of Kashmir. He of all people here knows what to do."

"So why didn't he stop this earlier?" Vincenzo said. "Why couldn't he stop this at the square?"

"Even with our abilities, Iscariot is only a human organization," Mahon said. "We won't allow ourselves to bow to the same methods as the protestants and other heathens when we hunt the world's monsters."

"Protestants?" O'Conner said. "What Protestants? Who else is in on this thing?"

"Who else but the world's religions would be fighting these monsters?" Mahon asked, unfazed. "The Jews, the Muslims, all of them. Even the damn English think they can fight these beasts."

"English? You mean _the_ English? Like the Church of England?" O'Conner said.

"Right up to the damn Queen," Mahon said. "But Iscariot was the one who knows the most about these creatures. We're the only ones who are supposed to save the country."

"You're kidding right?" Vincenzo said. "This isn't the time for a pissing contest, buddy, we need whatever help we can get!"

"You don't want their help, even if they could give it," Mahon said. "The protestants use monsters themselves. You can't trust them."

"Fair enough," O'Conner said, cutting the argument off. "Listen, we're going to talk to ourselves for a couple of minutes, alright?" Mahon nodded, and O'Conner herded Vincenzo and Carter to one of the small shrines of the side of the church. "Okay, they're not telling us something about these attacks, we can agree about that."

"Oh yeah," Carter said. "But they're the best hope for anyone in here living through this, so we gotta play along."

"Screw that!" Vincenzo said. "I say we take Fr. Mahon in the back and get him to spill himself!"

"Easy, Vincenzo," O'Conner said. "Didn't you hear him? Right now, no one can help us, okay? Besides, something's happening outside the country. Remember what he said about England? They can't help? We need to find anyone outside who's still alive, get some kind of coordination between whoever's left." His partners nodded, but he noted Vincenzo was still angry over Murphy's death. Not that O'Conner could blame him, but things had to be put in focus. "Alright, Vincenzo, you get to work trying to contact someone. Carter, you start taking stock of things with Mahon."

"What about you?" Carter asked.

"I'll see if they need help at the doors." With a final nod, the group split up, going to their own duties, while Raju preached on about heaven and hell, the panicked civilians inside listening with rapt attention, as the guards held the door.

* * *

While the area around Broadway was in utter chaos, Tribeca was a more subdued panic, people locking their doors and running for home. Car accidents piled up, as the few police still in the area tried to keep order. The offices of the Ghostbusters were technically open, but for all intents and purposes, were closed.

"Anything new, Egon?" Ray asked, walking into Egon's lab, seeing his friend reading through one of his many guides.

"Nothing, Ray," Egon answered, putting the book down. "These creatures aren't incorporeal in any way. None of the guides have any information on these creatures."

"So basically, we can't do anything about them?" Ray said, taking a seat near Egon's.

"Not necessarily," Egon answered with a small smile. "I looked into some other guides on the occult, and found this." Taking the book from his desk, he tossed it to Ray. Looking over the leather-bound text, Ray read the title aloud. "_Grimory of the Deathless_?"

Egon nodded. "It says that the creatures outside right now are ghouls, mindless drones who attack anything they see as food. In this case, human flesh. The only real way to defeat them is to destroy the head or heart."

"You said drones?" Ray said, as he furiously read through the book. "Aren't drones mindless workers for their leader?"

"In this case, correct. Go to page 305." Nodding, Ray did so, as Egon kept talking. "That, Ray, is what we're up against."

"You're kidding me!" Ray said, shutting the book. "Vampires? In Manhattan? So how do we take these things down!"

"The composite particle system on the proton packs," Egon said. "As long as the authorities can provide ample support for us, we can eventually combat the horde back to its original starting point and eliminate the vampire that created them, destroying the ghouls in the process."

"Cut off the head and kill the body," Ray said, slamming the book closed. "Alright, you get Peter out of bed, I'll get Winston from the basement."

Sliding down the pole, Ray saw Janine fielding at least six callers at once, as well as calls from the governor and Coast Guard. Looking over and seeing Ray, she put everyone on hold. "Ray, can you _please_ get over here and calm these people down! Every word I say just makes them angrier!"

"Just tell that that Dr. Stantz has a plan and needs as many local police as can be spared!" he said, running into the basement.

"But Doctor! I just said they won't listen to me!" Janine yelled, as more lines lit up on her phone. Growling, she went back to the phones to try and calm the callers, as well as attempt to get through to the nearest precinct.

"Winston, we have a plan to take these things out!" Ray said, seeing no one inside. "Hey, Winston, you in here?"

"Over here, Ray!" Winston said, his voice coming from the storage area. Coming over, Ray heard Winston rummaging around. "I'm looking for something we can use against these things!"

"We've already got it, buddy," Ray said, coming over to the door. "We've got Egon's CPS ready to go for these things. Janine's calling the cops right now, we're gonna head right up through the island and take these things out."

"Then we'll need something special," Winston said, looking over his shoulder with a smile. Listening, Ray heard a sound like metal being shifted around.

"Uh, Winston," Ray said, straightening up. "What have you got in there?"

"You know I was in the Marines, right?" he said, Ray nodding. "Well, one of my buddies couldn't let me go without giving me a going away present." Turning around, Ray saw Winston holding a rocket launcher in his hands. "Ray, meet the Shoulder mounted Multipurpose Assault Weapon, vintage 1987, along with case of ammunition."

Ray felt his jaw drop, a small smile forming. "How on Earth did you get this past the police?" he said, giggling, and feeling a little shocked.

"Let's just say Marines are everywhere," Winston said, hefting the launcher. "Besides, at a time like this, we need some heavy hitting firepower."

"Just make sure you don't go crazy with that thing," Ray said. "Or else we'll be getting paperwork from more people than just the city."

"Not to worry," Winston said. "This thing was developed to take out tanks, so just imagine what it can do to an unprotected human body."

"I'd rather not," Ray said, wincing a little. "Peter and Egon should be coming down now."

"Just once, I'd like a crisis we _didn't_ have to handle," Peter said, sliding his pack on. "I mean, really, shouldn't the cops be able to handle this sort of thing just _once_?"

"The police are troubled enough with trying to control normal society, Peter," Egon said, checking his own pack. "I highly doubt they would be able to keep any kind of the control over the paranormal as well."

"Glad to see your doctorates also help with talking down to others, Egon," Peter said, turning around, just in time to see Winston walking up with a rocket launcher. "That's new."

"Got this as a going away present," Winston said, patting the launcher with a toothy smile. "What about the cops, are they on board?"

"And the National Guard and Coast Guard," Egon said. "They and the State Police have already started putting quarantine around the city. Until they move in, however, anyone inside is practically on their own."

"So what else is new, ah?" Venkman said, his Coney Island training as a talker coming back again. "We took on a god, we saved the city, we all got the girl!" The others just looked at Venkman. "Well, _I_ got the girl, but you guys could've too, if you tried!" Extending his arms, he pulled Egon and Ray close. "Now let's go out there and kid some zombie butt!"

"Actually, Peter, the zombi are products of Haitian vodou, not vampire attack." Egon said, Peter frowning and throwing up his hands.

"I just got a call from the precinct, guys," Janine said. "The captain agreed to help, he's sending us as many of his men as he could spare, they'll meet you at Battery Park."

"Thanks, Janine," Ray said. "Remember, barricade the doors until we call back with the all clear, alright?"

"You didn't need to tell me that," Janine said, looking worried. "Just make sure you all come back, even you Dr. Venkman."

Peter looked out the driver's window, and gave Janine a small smile. "Don't worry, we get out of this alive, you get a raise." Opening the doors, Peter sped from the firehouse to Battery park, their siren loud and uplifting to the urban dwellers who heard it.

"You really mean that about her raise, Peter?" Ray asked, surprised by Venkman's sudden kindness.

"Well, I never said how big a raise," Peter said with a grin, the other Ghostbusters rolling their eyes.

* * *

The three men watched the devastation in the three cities in silence, occasionally sipping a beer or taking a bite of pizza. The reporters droned on about the panic, the death, the thousands still trapped.

"Looks like this is one hell of a mess," Connor said, putting his beer down. "Have they called us yet?"

"No," Murphy said, taking another bite of pizza. "But at this rate, it'll happen soon."

Their father just sat in his chair, cleaning his weapons and listening quietly. Now that this had happened, the police would finally have a good reason to call off the hunt for them. At least, the local cops, anyway. The FBI might drop their case as well, but that, right now, was wishful thinking.

Murphy's phone buzzed. Picking it up, he frowned. "The Hibernians and Sons have been called. They want us to remain here and stay alert for a call."

Connor looked over at his father. "Well, Da? What do you think?"

Finished his cleaning, their father slammed the cylinder back into his Colt Python with an audible "clack". "The forces of darkness surround us like a massive plague," he said, sliding his weapons into their holsters. "Only those angels as dark as the foe are able to battle for the Lord."

Murphy and Conner looked at each other, and nodded. They grabbed their coats and guns, and quickly gathered their ammo and knives, their ropes and their rosaries. "And the three shall spread their blackened wings," they said, walking down the stairs of their apartment, the other tenants hearing the prayer and finally realizing just who their neighbors were. "And be the vengeful striking hammer of the Lord." Walking out onto the street, the piled into their car, graciously "donated" from a once prominent local politician who was far too pleased to be in the presence of girls far younger than he. "And shepherds we shall be, for thee, me Lord, for thee." The tenants were already taking pictures, some calling the police, the others cheering and clapping. Hearing the commotion, a few other residents from nearby rushing to their own windows. Two men started arguing over what was right, cheering or calling the police, while one young woman bared all to the vigilantes, much to Murphy's pleasure. "And we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teaming with souls shall it ever be!"

"En nominee Patre," Il Ducce said, buckling his seat belt.

"Et Fili," Conner said, starting the engine.

"En es Spiritus Sancti," Murphy said, loading the chambers of his M9s, as the car sped towards New York, as a brawl broke out over the true nature of the Saints.

* * *

As Mendoza drove towards London, he tried to keep Figgins talking as long as he could. Military training may help in times of war or death, but a disaster on this level could turn even the worst killer into a quivering wreck, and Figgins didn't seem like he'd grown up anywhere near violence even near this scale. "So let's keep hearing about your girlfriend, Figgins, what was she like?" he asked, driving towards the nearest town.

"She…she was nice," Figgins said, curled up on the passenger's seat, his arms wrapped around his chest, his legs curled up on the seat, as the airman rocked gently back and forth. "She was my first girlfriend…we were inseparable." Figgins looked over at Mendoza, reaching out for the radio. "Can we turn on some music, Mendoza? Maybe that will help?"

"I don't think that's the best idea, buddy," Mendoza said, stopping Figgins from pressing the power. The last thing he needed Figgins hearing was the news repeating what was happening. "So she was your first girlfriend? Did you propose to her?"

"No…we were j-just together in school. She moved away…I enlisted…Can we please turn on some music?" Figgins said, his face pleading for some distraction away from the hell he was in.

"Here, let me search," Mendoza said, hoping he could find any station that was down. As important as it was to gather actionable information on the situation, he couldn't afford to let Figgins fall into shock. Turning on the radio, if he heard anything that sounded like words, he switched away, until he finally heard one station…playing, at the time, _Flight of the Valkyries_. "This any good?" Mendoza said, trying to keep his smile up.

"Y-yeah," Figgins said, before his face went into full shock mode and he threw his finger up in surprise. "Look out!" he screamed, Mendoza slamming on the brakes and looking outside.

The road was crammed with headlights and warning lights, the roadblock manned by at least half a dozen British police, all with weapons drawn. One was already on the megaphone. "_Exit your vehicle with your hands above your head,_" the cop yelled, clearly nervous. And this was Mendoza's first clue that something was more than just wrong. Even if the base was attacked, the span from the attack to this response was too fast, to say nothing of the fact that the police were actively forming roadblocks. "Figgins, they won't shoot, we just have to do what they say."

"B-b-b-but they've got their guns on us!" Figgins said, whispering. "They'll shoot us, I know it!"

"No they won't," Mendoza said, slowly opening the car door and sticking his arm up. "Don't shoot!" he yelled. "We're Americans from Mildenhall! We're trying to get to London!"

A few of the police lowered their weapons and waved Mendoza forward. Nodding, he took a few steps closer to the barricade, two of the cops coming out to meet him. "You're American?" one said, not so much asking a question as voicing his disbelief.

"That's right," Mendoza said calmly. "We both managed to escape Mildenhall when those things attacked. Listen, my buddy's in shock, I really need to get him to a doctor."

"Mildenhall too?" the other cop said, piquing Mendoza's interest. This was bigger than a carrier or single base. Much bigger.

"What else has happened?" Mendoza said, slowly trying to lower his arms.

"Put'em back up, Yank," the first cop said, motioning his weapon at Mendoza. "We're still not sure about you."

"Sure about me how?" Mendoza asked. It was training. Even captured, he was to discover as much information as he could find. "Where else has this happened?"

"First, how do we know we can trust you?" the officer said. Now that they were both in the headlights, he saw the first was a younger man, angry looking and quite suspicious, the other a middle-aged officer, looking alert but also a little nervous. "You aren't from around here, so how do we know you aren't an enemy spy?"

"I'm not attacking you, for one," Mendoza said flatly.

Looking at each other, the cops nodded, and moved back. "Henry will watch you," the younger one said. Turning away, he started talking into his radio, as his partner kept his weapon ready. Eventually, the younger man came back. "Alright, both of you are to come with us. No tricks now, or we'll take some revenge for a little 'tea party'."

Nodding, Mendoza slowly walked back to the car. "Hey, Figgins, c'mon buddy, these guys're gonna help us."

"R-r-really?" Figgins said, looking a little relieved, but still quivering. "And they'll p-p-protect us?"

"Yeah, they'll protect us," Mendoza said. "Now c'mon, let's go." Slowly, he helped Figgins out of the car, and immediately noticed a terrible smell wafting up to his nose. Not asking, he quickly led Figgins to the two officers, shooting them both looks warning them both to not to bring it up. Both nodded, a little unnerved themselves now. American troops were usually fun loving, but very professional people. If one of them was so frightened, what was happening? Getting the two to the roadblock, two other officers went to the car and drove it up. "We're going to take you to Inspector Chalmers, he's the man in charge right now."

"Roger," Mendoza said, guiding Figgins into the back of the car. Before he got in, he came close to the young cop. "Get us a shrink or something here, fast!" With that, Mendoza got in the car, his last image as he drove away the police flipping their escape vehicle over to add to the barricade. "Hey, where are we, anyway?" Mendoza asked the driver.

"You'll find out soon enough," the driver said, as the cop car pulled away.

* * *

"Yuck!" the aide said, spitting out the blood of the former Secretary of State. "No wonder you were such an idiot. Foul blood like yours…only a fool like you would stop the Balkans from blowing each other to hell, save us all a headache." Sighing, he listened as his ghouls swarmed the house, eating the few staff and guards that remained. The first family was still holed up in their rooms with their own guards in the President's bedroom, and ready to serve their purpose. Snapping his fingers, he got up from his seat. "Well, boys and girls, it's about time we moved to the next phase of the plan," he said, walking down to the basement. "We've all done our jobs well enough. It's time to move on." The ghouls groaned in response, following their master forward. "We have to get that football before dawn, after all."

As he walked the halls, he smiled at his handiwork. The priceless paintings were spared, at least the ones of the presidents he considered almost as holy as the Lord Jesus. Washington, Jefferson, their pictures were spared. Lincoln and Kennedy, however, had their portraits burned like the traitors they were. The Resolute desk was also burned. America didn't need gifts from anyone, and if he had anything to say about it, it never would. The Queen's bedroom was ripped apart, to say nothing of the Lincoln bedroom. A few Secret Service and Marines had locked themselves in the situation room, but the aide had more than enough ghouls to overwhelm them.

Walking down to the Emergency Operations Center, he pressed in a combination of buttons of the Presidential telephone, opening a three foot thick steel door behind him. Smiling, he went in first, speeding away, as the ghouls shuffled behind, one staying behind to close the doors.

* * *

"So what're we getting paid for this job?" Grady said, as the chopper landed in McCarran International to get on a Lear jet for the rest of the journey. "Cause I was really thinking of getting myself some new wheels for my hummer."

"I know what I'm getting paid," Burt said. "You? I'll have to talk to my boss about that."

"Wait, c'mon, Burt, you've gotta give me something for coming out here!" Grady said, waving his arms around for effect. "I mean, I'm risking my butt on my own initiative, there's gotta be some compensation!"

"How about living to see tomorrow?" Burt said, climbing the stairs to the jet. "These monsters are moving through each city, and we can't afford to let them get anywhere outside of them, understand?"

"You could've told me these details before we left," Grady said, taking an M4 from one of the agents and strapping himself in. Burt laughed inside. The kid reminded him of Val back during the first incident with the graboids, the anger mainly directed inside than at anyone else. Once the kid learned how to plan ahead a little, Burt felt he could make an excellent businessman. But tonight was different than hunting graboids. The monsters weren't confined underground, they were roaming freely, and weren't easily fooled by tricks and traps. They only saw what wasn't food, and what was.

"We'll arrive soon," one of the agents said, adjusting his gear as he sat down. There were a total of eight Warbucks agents with them, a total of ten men against an army of ghouls. The choppers were at the airport as well, refueling and arming for the coming battle. Until they arrived, however, Burt and the others were on their own. "Do you need any briefing?" he asked Grady.

"Nah, I'm good," Grady said. "Let's just get this over with."

"Best get that attitude in order, kid," Burt said. "I need you focused and ready to win, not willing to drop the ball because you didn't get enough of the millions of dollars Ms. Warbucks is paying me, that I would have given to you out of generosity." Burt shrugged, indifferent to the shock on Grady's face. As the agents and two "contractors" took their seats, one of the agents came to Burt's ear.

"We could have used our powers at the time to take Basset and Valentine with us," he said. "Why didn't you give us a chance?"

"Val and Earl don't work well with being forced to do something," Burt said, strapping himself into the seat. "Unless they're being threatened with death, then they'll do damn near anything to stay alive."

"What if we tried to give them more money-"

Burt started laughing, much to the agent's confusion. "They've got an amusement park and two wives!" he laughed. "You really think they can be dragged out here with a promise of a few more dollars?"

"How bout watching out for your crazy ass!" Looking towards the stairs, Burt and the others saw Val and Earl running up the stairs. "Damn fool wouldn't let it go," Earl said, panting.

"You really want to let Burt outside with high explosives and as much ammo as he wants?" Val said, looking for a seat. "We're looking out for everyone else! Besides, Grady has a point. Now what happened to planning ahead, huh, Earl?"

"Usually planning ahead doesn't involve being eaten for dinner," Earl said. "So, you have any weapons for us, Burt?"

"In the back," Burt said, motioning to what was usually the door to a bathroom. For a Warbucks' flight, however, it was the weapons locker. "Now strap in, boys, we've got quite a night ahead of us."

"If we get out of this alive, I'm taking the next vacation, _you_ get to stay and run the park!" Earl said.

"The hell I will!" Val said. "If we get through this, I'm taking the next vacation for dragging you along instead of boarding ourselves up in the office!"

Before the argument could become any more heated, the plane taxied and took off, moving fast for LA.

* * *

**So I'm trying to focus on each section of the story a little more, to try and flesh things out. Anyone want to send me a review?**

**So that's two new character groups in the story, but folks, I haven't shown you numero uno yet. So hang on and wait, and we'll all see our savior and lord himself around chapter 6! Stay tuned, film at 11!**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

An hour passed, and the situation across the country seemed to stabilize according to Anne's data-pad. "Well, Rally, we're almost at Andrews. Do you need any briefing at all?"

"It'd really help if I had any more details on who I was going in with," Rally said. "I need to know I can count on these people, Anne, or I won't go in, period."

Anne shrugged, and handed over her data-pad after typing into it. "Here you are, bios and records of each member of the insertion team."

Taking the pad, Rally brought up the files on the FBI agents first, reading it aloud.

"Agent Fox Mulder, age 38, graduate of Oxford University with a degree in Psychology. Known to have battled undead agents three times before, twice against vampires. Known for quickly creating theories during the investigation that allow investigators to quickly adapt to changing circumstances. Note that he is also prone to long bouts of philosophy during missions. Should he continue talking, do whatever is necessary to keep quiet."

"Agent Dana Scully, 37, Graduate of the University of Maryland with a degree in physics?" Rally said, looking up at Anne, then going back to the dossier. "Qualified medical doctor, brought on to keep Agent Mulder in check, keeping her theories more restricted to the realm of science instead of superstition. Note that at times she also is quite willing to ignore the supernatural when it does reveal itself unless it is almost too late." Rally looked at Anne. "You're kidding me."

"You haven't gotten to the Army squad, dear," Anne said, pointing at the pad with a Cheshire smile.

Looking back, Rally kept reading. "Sgt. Samuel Redford, age 41. Term of service, 19 years. Married, two children. Accepted position in B-Company in order to shorten remaining service." Rally looked at Anne again. "Why does this man get a shortened enlistment?"

"B-Company is usually made up of a handpicked few," Anne said. "But volunteers aren't discouraged, and in exchange for their willingness, due to the dangerous missions they are usually assigned, volunteers are given a shortened term."

Arching an eyebrow, Rally kept reading. "Pvt. George Gordon Haggard Jr, age 36. Term of service, 18 years. Explosives expert. Pvt. Terrance Sweetwater, age 34, term of service, 12 years. SAW gunner and electronics expert." Satisfied, Rally handed the pad back to Anne. "Well, that answered some of my questions. Anything else that you want to tell me before we arrive?"

"Just to hang on, Rally," Anne said. "We're all in for a long night."

As the plane taxied to a halt, three separate humvees pulled up to the plane, security forces piling out and aiming at the plane. As soon as Anne walked out, however, they all lowered their weapons and saluted. Saluting back, she walked to the ranking NCO. "Where's the helicopter?" she yelled.

"This way, ma'am," he said, motioning them into a humvee, getting in and signaling the driver to head to the helipad. "We've had no new reports from the White House or New York or L.A.," he said. "And the British Embassy hasn't heard anything either."

"Not surprising," Anne said. "And what about the VIPs we sent out?"

"Their plane is still on the move, ma'am," the NCO said. "Both VIPs are still secured. Their staffs are also on the move."

Anne nodded, and soon the Vee pulled up to a waiting helicopter, a UH-1 Iroquois from the 1st Helicopter squadron. Anne, Rally and May piled in, the NCO slamming the door and patting it, sending the chopper off.

* * *

Looking up from adjusting the straps on his tactical suit, Mulder saw two canvas covered 5-ton trucks pulling through the barriacades. "_Army units are on-scene, all units stand by,_" his radio squaked. "_Agents Mulder and Scully, report to the central staging area._"

Quickly weaving his way through the crowds of law enforcement, Mulder arrived at the tarp that served as the roof for the briefing room the same time as Scully. Carefully observing her, he noticed that, while still slightly on edge, she was still calmer than earlier. The Kevlar coating probably helped. "Ready to meet our guides?" he said, opening the flap of the tarp for Scully.

"Not really," she said. "I'd rather have SEALS instead of Army, at least I know who I'm going in with."

"Loyal to the end, eh Scully?" Mulder said, knowing full well his partner was a Navy brat.

"Let's hope not," she said, walking inside to see A.D. Skinner and one of the metro cops spreading a schematic on the table.

"Agents," Skinner said, standing up. "Glad to see you both in your gear. The Army team is getting off the truck now, the Army chief of staff has just signed over temporary command to the FBI until the crisis is averted."

"The situation is that serious?" Scully asked, as surprised as Mulder.

"Well, considering the gravity of the situation worldwide, confirmation of POTUS' status is paramount." He motioned them over to the blueprints. "We weren't able to get complete schematics, but what we have will do well enough for getting inside and securing the immediate area." He pointed to the West Wing. "You'll be going in through the windows to the Oval Office. Once inside you will spread through the White House and rescue any survivors, along with determining who did this, and if they can be captured." He looked them hard in their eyes. "I don't need to tell you what to do otherwise."

Before Skinner could go any further, a command voice echoed from the outside. "_DAMNIT HAGGARD, I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THE DAMN CAMERAS BACK AT THE BASE!_" A second later, an agent opened a flap to let in a group of men in BDUs, all scruffy looking and angry. "Sgt. Redford, reporting as ordered, sir," Redford said, giving a quick salute to Skinner.

"Glad to have you here, Redford," Skinner said with a nod. "There are two more agents on their way from Andrews Airbase, they'll be here soon. I want all of you to go over these blueprints until then," Skinner said, tapping the paper. "Memorize everything."

Nodding, Mulder and Scully went to look over the files with the squad. Or, Sgt. Redford, while the squad tried to take a glance at the White House. "Um, sir? Don't you think that your men should be looking at these plans?"

Redford shot daggers at Mulder. "Don't call me 'sir', agent, I work for a living. And trying to get those guys to look over a plan is like trying to get an ape to not fling its own sh-

"Still," Scully said, cutting Redford off. "It's our job to make sure that this all goes as smoothly as possible. Your men need to know what to expect."

With a shrug, Redford turned. "_HEY! ALL OF YOU OVER TO THE BRIEFING, NOW!_"

Another round of groaning and complaints answered, and Mulder and Scully suddenly got the strangest sense of dread, which was only enhanced when the man named Haggard gleefully asked, "So what do we blow up first?"

"Hopefully nothing," Scully said, drawing out the plan. "Once we breach into the Oval Office, we're to split up into four teams. Team One will remain in the West Wing and examine it, while teams Two and Three will search the Executive Residence. Finally, team Four will move through the East Wing. All survivors are to be extracted as soon as possible, and we are to capture whoever did this."

"Forget that!" one of the men yelled, a Private Sweetwater. "The trial would take years to complete, not to mention appeals and further investigations! Added on to the defense and prosecution costs of a case like that, we'd be doing to country a favor taking out whoever did this!"

The squad cheered in support, as Mulder tried to calm them down. "As tempting as that would be," he said, raising his voice. "It's not the way our system works, and you all know that. We have to take this man alive for more than just that. If we're right, he's connected to what's happening in New York and L.A., to say nothing of what he might know about what's happening worldwide."

"Everyone over here!" Skinner barked, Mulder and the others gathering around the TV broadcasting CNN.

"_We're getting no communication from inside the White House_," the anchor said, doing his level best to make it through the latest reports. "_And the whereabouts of Vice President Gore remain unknown. At this time, members of the press are being barred from the scene. We're going to play for you know some footage that appears to contain several gunshots. It is still unclear whether they were fired by Secret Service agents, a team sent in to rescue the President, or the unidentified enemies. As soon as we have more concrete information, we'll let you know._" The TV then showed the White House from earlier, Skinner and Mulder visible in the foreground, with the camera whipping towards the West Wing as soon as the fire started, showing shadows moving about inside the second floor.

"Damnit," Skinner said, slamming his fist on the table, shaking the screens and coffee cups that were piled on it. "Now the whole country is going to be in a panic." He turned to one of the agents working the radios. "Get those agents on the line, tell them I want them here _yesterday!_"

* * *

Despite speeding down the Jersey turnpike at top speed, the Hibernians and Sons were still a good hour away from New York. Thankfully, the drivers on the turnpike had enough sense to recognize armored cars when they saw them, and quickly gave a wide berth, surprised when, instead of SWAT markings on the side, they saw "A.O.H." and "S.O.I" painted on the sides.

"So where do we stand?" Harris said into his radio, talking to Commander DiFilipo, leader of the S.O.I. detachment.

"_We've just gotten a flash from the Vatican,_" DiFilipo said. "_The current orders still stand. But there's one other thing._" DiFilipo said, misgiving in his voice.

"What is it?" Harris asked, now concerned.

"_Maxwell gave the order, he wants anyone who isn't Catholic killed as soon as they're found._"

The words hit Harris like a ton of bricks. Kill all non-Catholics, anyone who didn't follow the teachings of the Vatican. Protestants, Jews, Muslims, even atheists. Of course, he didn't like it, none of the men did. When they were needed on a mission, they just killed the enemy. To hear that Maxwell was essentially ordering the wholesale slaughter of thousands of innocents was unbelievable. He turned to the Iscariot priest that always accompanied them as a chaplain. "Father, I was just told-"

"To kill all non-Catholics," Fr. Lawrence said. He nodded sagely. "Maxwell has never been one for friendly relations with other faiths. His only true friend has been power, and anyone else is only a tool to gain that power." Lawrence took his glasses off his perpetually swollen red nose and wiped them clean on his clothes. "But what do you think the lord Jesus would have done?"

Harris nodded, and set his radio to contact both his men and everyone else in the strike force. "All units, this is Cmdr. Harris of Div. 1, Bristol, A.O.H. No doubt you've learned that Archbishop Maxwell has ordered the elimination of all non-Catholics we encounter during our mission. Well, I say we countermand that order." The radio was suddenly flooded with confused questions, asking if that was possible, opposing the leader of Section 13. "I know it seems bizarre, especially for men in our position!" he said, quieting the protests. "But we have to remember that we follow God first, and what Jesus preached was a message of tolerance and peace. We may kill for the Lord, but we should not become the same monsters we hunt."

Silence. Pure and utter silence. Not one man answered back on the radio. Then, a single voice.

"Amen."

It was DiFilipo, and the floodgates opened, the entire strike force answering in kind.

"Very well," Harris said. Quickly, he changed channels to talk with the driver. "What's the latest from New York?"

"Still stable," the driver said. "State Police have already sealed the roads and bridges, Coast Guards taking out any boat that's been overrun. Local cops are in scattered pockets around the city. Police Plaza is dead."

"Well, it's a start," Harris grunted. "What about the divisions we have up there?"

"Yonkers is our only reliable source right now," the driver said. "They've been trying to organize things with the State Police and National Guard, but right now those two are pretty confident it's still just some bizarre riot and that they're just present because of the White House incident. They say they'll have the situation worked out by the time the survivors escape to the cordon."

"Roger," Harris said. "Anyone have any last questions?"

"Just one, boss," Sean said. "Where are they!"

Harris smiled. These men were his now. Sons, fathers, friends. All of them bound by their heritage and membership. For years, they were considered tin men, nothing but glorified bodyguards for Iscariot. Now was their chance. They didn't need monsters or regenerators. They were humans, damnit, and they were going to show how real humans fought.

* * *

"Congressman," Gen. Hammond said with a salute, as Mr. Hastert exited the Lear. "I'm pleased to see you're unharmed, sir."

"So am I," Hastert said, shaking Hammond's hand. "Please, can we get to the base?"

"Right this way, sir," Hammond said, leading the Speaker to a waiting staff car, flanked by two humvees. Entering the car, Hastert nervously looked around. It was understandable really. The man was the probably the President, and now he was probably the target of a conspiracy meant to take out the country's command and control. A classic plan, and one being pulled off with frightening efficiency. With three of the nation's major cities under attack, anyone could be made a target. "I have one of my best teams on stand-by to personally guard you. You'll be kept in one of the deepest parts of the base. If anyone wants to get to you, they'd have to fight their way through dozens of highly trained Air Force personnel."

"Thank you, general," Hastert said, nervously rubbing his hands together.

Arriving at the base, Hammond and a team of Security Forces led Hastert through the blast doors that funneled into the base interior, moving through the winding corridors to Hastert's room. "After you, sir," Hammond said. Nodding, Hastert went inside, and saw three men and a woman standing inside, all armed, gathered around a TV. "Sir, I'd like you to meet your security team. Lt. Col. O'Neil, Maj. Carter, Dr. Jackson and Sgt. Tealc."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," O'Neil said, turning from the news. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you live long enough to see your inauguration."

"Colonel," Hammond said with a warning tone. "Now, let's get down to basics. Sir, until the crisis clears, you'll be kept here. We'll have food sent down in a few minutes. Will you need anything?"

"No, thank you," Hastert said, rubbing his forehead. "I'll just sit down here," he said, nearly collapsing onto the couch inside.

"Very well sir. If you need me, I'll be in the central control center. Colonel," he said, looking at O'Neil. "I'd like a word outside, if you please." As soon as O'Neil was out, Hammond shut the door with an audible slam. "Colonel, I usually let some things slide, but right now we are truly in dire straits!"

"Yes, sir," O'Neil said. "I understand."

"Very good," Hammond said. "This is possibly the most important moment in Earth's history, O'Neil. We can't afford to make it the worst."

"Understood, sir," O'Neil said, going back into the room. Hearing the general walk away, he clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Well, let's all settle down and try to make it through the night."

Hastert nodded, and noticed that Sgt. Tealc was the only one wearing a hat. Then he shook the thought away. America was under attack and he was worried about a hat? "Colonel, how long do you think we need to stay down here?"

"Can't say, sir," O'Neil said. "But don't worry. This base was made to last!" he said, slapping the wall, and having one of the picture frames fall to the floor with a loud smash. "Well, maybe we could use some redecoration."

While O'Neil distracted their VIP, Carter and Jackson turned away. "So have you found out _anything _about these things?"

"Nothing, Sam," Daniel said. "Every book, every file, none of them mention anything like these creatures, at least not from any Goa'uld or Asgard files or legends. But that's where it get's disturbing."

"_Gets_ disturbing?" Carter said. "Daniel, its gone way past disturbing!"

"Sorry," Daniel said. "But take a look at these," he said, pulling some printouts from one of his pockets. "I found these from a database on Ancient Egyptian myths. It describes the goddess Sekhmet. She was primarily a bloodrinker."

Carter took the paper and started reading. "It also says she was the goddess of menstruation, Daniel," she said, completely deadpan.

"That's not the point!" Daniel said, taking the paper and pointing out what he was trying to show Carter. "See, right here, about her servants!"

Looking down, Sam saw that the servants of Sekhmet on Earth were usually active during the night, taking blood from the living and taking it to their goddess as an offering. "This was a Goa'uld?"

"I don't think so," Daniel said, now looking incredibly shaken. "No goa'uld I've ever researched has performed these kinds of rituals. And I checked with Teal'c. There was never any devoted for to any system lord named Sekhmet."

"So who caused this then?" Sam said, taking the paper again, now reading it much more carefully. "These monsters, they're medically impossible!" she said, pointing to the TV.

They all saw the same picture, now becoming a hallmark of the panic, the streets of New York being overrun by the monsters. A few news choppers had managed to get into the air before their studios were overrun, as the announcer talked on about what was happening.

"_We're live over Columbus Circle, where a group of NYPD officers have formed a makeshift cordon against the oncoming mob. We would return to St. Patrick's, but gunfire forced us away._" The camera focused on a line of cars, zooming on a group of officers firing into the crowd. The mass was moving straight up Broadway and 8th Avenue, a few panicked survivors running towards the police. "_Times Square is completely overrun, and One Police Plaza has gone silent. We've gotten word that the Coast Guard has completely surrounded the island and that remaining units of the NYPD are blocking the bridges with anything they can get their hands on._" The screen split into three sections now, showing the anchor, the view from the helicopter, and a second helicopter showing police making barricades out of forcibly abandoned cars on the George Washington bridge. Cars, semis, even a bulldozer was being brought up to push the debris together.

"And have you seen anything from the people who have barricaded themselves in the high rises? We've gotten sporadic reports that there are groups of survivors in those buildings." The anchor asked.

"_No, we haven't seen anyone on the rooftops yet and…wait, wait a minute!_" The camera focused in on the line of police, now firing at the monsters. "_The police have engaged the mob…oh my goodness, please, make sure that no small children are watching this, please!_"

The reporter was right. The camera, despite being hundreds of feet in the air, was capturing every bloody and gruesome detail. The police were only armed with Glocks and M16 variants, with the odd shotgun thrown in. The police themselves fought on with whatever force they could gather, as the odd straggler ran for their protection. On the ground, inaudible to the to the helicopter's microphone, the blast of ten gauge shells thunder in the night, the smaller cracks of the Colts and Glocks just as deadly. Thanks to O'Conners' panicked message before communication completely broke down, the cops at the barricade had a point to fire at. The problem was the immense damage they could sustain. A ghoul shuffled towards them with the right half of its head missing. A female body kept moving on, despite the skin around its neck being completely destroyed, being barely connected by its very backbone. Limbs and flesh fell like rain on the pavement, but the police seemed to be keeping the monsters at bay. Then, "_Oh my God, pan to the right!_" The news chopper had seen what the officers didn't, a swarm of undead coming from their rear from Central park. So focused were the police on what was coming at them, they never heard what was behind until too late. The camera pulled away, and the scene cut to the studio before anything else could be seen. "We're sorry, ladies and gentlemen, we, uh, we promise to get back to the situation in New York as soon as possible. Until then, please stay with us."

Looking over at Hastert, Carter and Jackson saw he was looking down at the floor in shock, wringing his hands. "Whatever did this," Carter said, "We have to keep the senator safe."

"Should we tell him-"

"No!" Carter said, cutting Jackson off. "We'll tell him eventually, but right now, we just keep him safe."

Jackson nodded, and went off to do more research, as Teal'c and O'Neil watched the door.

* * *

"This is _it_?" Winston whispered into Ray's ear. "Man, these guys aren't even enough to put a dent in a _Boy Scout troop!_"

"They're all the captain could spare!" Ray hissed, as they looked on the assembled officers. Five cars, a van, and fifteen officers, all decked in riot gear, along with the FDNY ambulance and three medics, thankfully loaded to bursting with medical supplies. The odds were not in their favor.

"The captain said that some off duty officers who are being called can't make it from their homes due to the quarantine," Egon said from Ecto-1, getting off the radio. "It seems they've been ordered to join up with the barricades around the city and wait to move in."

The police themselves were equally nervous. Despite the reputation the Ghostbusters had for getting things done, they were also had a well-deserved reputation for causing damages in four-digits and that their weapons were not exactly "safe". But right now, they were the first in line, since their last three performances had definitely proved that the paranormal was too much for beat cops.

After talking with each other, Peter stepped forward to address the cops. "Alright, boys, I hope you've all read our little handouts that we've had distributed to the police, because only good little boys who studied are going to make it through this little lesson."

"We all know about you, Venkman!" one of the cops, a sergeant, shouted. "Let the ones without rap sheets do the talking!"

"I'll take it, Peter," Winston said, patting Peter on the shoulder and taking Pete's place at the front. "Alright, I'll keep this brief simple. Right now, as we all know, the area immediately surrounding Times Square is under some kind of mob attack, and we can't allow that to go any farther. So, we are going to move through the area, meet up with any surviving officers, and push our way forward to the epicenter."

"What about civilians?" one of the cops asked.

"We're gonna set up stations along the way, in a leap frog," Winston said. "That's the ambulance and van. Both are gonna be loaded with supplies. One stays and gets things as stable as possible, the other keeps moving."

"And any looters?" another officer asked.

"We'll leave that to you fine gentlemen," Winston said. "We're exactly used to dealing with the leaving, because usually they end up suing us, as I'm sure you boys know about." The cops laughed a little. Despite the disconnect, the police felt some connection to the Ghostbusters, keeping control despite the obvious avalanche of troubles and calls. In fact, they thought the Ghostbusters had it easy. They never had to deal with trial dates or bail jumpers. "So, let's focus on the simple facts. We're going to march straight up into Times Square, we're going bash these things down to dust, and we're going to catch whoever did this, and show them how we do it downtown!" The cops let out a quick cheer, and talked among each other, as the Ghostbusters grouped together themselves.

"Great speech, Winston," Ray said, looking as happy as a child. "You really got'em going now! We may actually have a chance!"

"Barely," Winston said, shaking his head. "I just had to get their morale up. Odds are most of us are going to wind up dead before the sun comes up."

"He's right," Egon said. "Statistically speaking, one out of every four people here is going to die during this plan."

Ray suddenly lost the color in his face.

"Okay, so we have a plan, and we have the odds stacked high against us," Peter said. "But c'mon guys, we've taken on gods and spirits twice as powerful as these things!" he said. "Now you guys are all of a sudden afraid of a bunch of shuffling meatbags? Why? Are they really worse than the Chinatown poltergeist that was throwing meat cleavers at us last week? And how about that demon infestation on 29th! We took them down a peg or two! Now c'mon! Let's get out these and show these things what happens when freaks come into our town!"

Smiling again, Ray jumped into Ecto-1 and revved the engine, hitting the siren as the cops and firefighters did the same. The cars formed a line, Ecto-1 at the center, the van and ambulance in the rear. Hearing the noise in their neighborhood, the tenants ran to their windows and started cheering like mad again, as the rolling barricade moved to Times Square.

* * *

The guards in the tunnels kept scanning the route to the White House from the blast door. Since the Fifties, the government had laid underground tunnels beneath the capitol, just in case, by some random miracle, Washington was missed by a nuclear assault. Then again, the tunnels weren't for the president, they were for the members of the Senate and House that didn't make it to Greek Island. If they did survive, they could reconvene with a full house. If not…well, even in the Fifties, the government wasn't above needed sacrifice. Win-win.

"Anything on the monitors, Charlie?" the guard asked to his partner in the control room.

"I thought I saw something a few minutes ago," Charlie said. "But it didn't show up anywhere else."

"Did it look like one of ours?"

"Couldn't tell," Charlie said, grunting. "Seriously, we should seal the doors. No one's coming out of there, not from what I've heard."

"You know the orders," Charlie said. "Anything like this happens, we keep the doors open until we're ordered to close them."

"And keeping them open for whoever attacked POTUS," Charlie said with finality. "Now look, I know we've got orders, but the cordon around the house is so heavy, just two of us aren't going to hold whoever did this back for long! Now I'm shutting the door, and whoever's stuck on the other side is just gonna have to wait until morning. Besides, only POTUS knows about this, and have we seen him yet?"

"No," the guard said. The president was at least smart enough to realize the tunnels might come in handy, so an electric car was kept at all checkpoints in case it was needed. Even if anyone had come into the tunnels, the tram would've gotten them here by now. "You're right. Shut the door-" Then the guard stopped. There was a noise in the distance, growing. "Footsteps?" he said, Charlie poking his head out of the control station to see what was happening. "Charlie, there's someone out there!"

Running out of the station, Charlie and the guard aimed their weapons down the tunnel, seeing the shape of a man in a suit running full sprint for them. As he came closer, they could hear him screaming in terror. "Remember, don't let him out of your sights," Charlie said. "I'll talk to him." Lowering his weapon into a ready position, Charlie went out into the tunnel. "Stop where you are and indentify yourself! Comply or be shot!"

"_No!_" the man screamed, panicked. "_Please, I need help!_"

"Indentify yourself!" Charlie barked again.

"Morgan, Richard Morgan!" the man said, panting. "Please, you've gotta help me, they're coming after me!"

Hearing the name broadcast into the control room, the guard typed in the name into the White House staff database and got an reply in seconds. Richard Morgan, 27, senior staff to the President. Born in Makin, Georgia, father a local politician, graduated Georgetown with a degree in political science. No prior arrests of investigations made on his person, no associations with any terrorist groups, home grown or abroad. "He's clear," the guard said into his radio, Charlie lowering his weapon and leading the shaking man inside. The guard got a drink of water ready, and as soon as the two were inside, started the motors to close the massive door.

"Take a seat," Charlie said, helping the man down on the floor. He was a terrible sight, his suit coated in blood, his shoes absolutely caked in it. "You're lucky," he said, taking the water from his partner and offering it to the man, who tried to push it away. "No, no, c'mon, you've gotta drink this, it'll help you feel better." There was truth, of course. When a person seems like they're going into shock, shifting their focus to something else was always the recommended course of action. "Now, what happened?"

Then again, gathering information also took a priority.

"It all happened so fast," Morgan said, his voice trembling. "All I remember was what he looked like…"

"There was just one of them?" Charlie said in disbelief. "Well, can you tell us what he looked like?"

"What he looked like?" Morgan said, looking up. "He looked like…" A wide smile bloomed across his face. "Me."

Charlie tried to bring his gun up, but Morgan already had ripped into Charlie's throat. Knowing Charlie was dead, his partner ran to the control station and shut the door, bolting everything. "Alert, all stations, alert! Enemy has reached the tunnels, I repeat, enemy is inside the tunnels!"

"Ah, damnit," Morgan said, finished with his meal. "Couldn't get him fast enough. Ah well," he said with a smile. "You'll do just fine," he said, looking down at the now wriggling body of Charlie. "Let's go find that football."

A few minutes later, the entrance to the Capitol Building saw one of their own coming towards them on a tram. "Who the hell is that?" said the guard.

"Wilkes from Checkpoint 4," his partner answered. "Must have something to tell us." He grabbed the horn to the point's loudspeaker. "You okay there, Charlie?"

Charlie stopped the tram before the doors, got off, and promptly collapsed.

"Shit, he's down! Get the door open!"

The minute the door opened, the guard ran out of the door and to Charlie's side, turning him over to check for a pulse, in spite of the blood on the uniform. It was then that two things happened. Charlie grabbed the guard's arm and bit into it, while Morgan leaped from the back of the car and ran past the door before the other guard could close it. "Don't worry," Morgan said. "It'll hurt less than taxes. Trust me, I know."

Two transformations later, Morgan was already talking into the microphone. "All checkpoints, situation normal, enemy has been eliminated at Checkpoint 3."

"_Confirmation?_" One of the other guards asked.

"Check video feed 1-5," Morgan said. A moments silence, and,

"_Roger, threats are clear. All cameras show no other threats-_"

"_Don't listen!_" Morgan cursed. It was the bastard from 4 who had survived. "_One of those bodies is Wilkes! Whoever is broadcasting this message is the traitor!_"

"Ugh, you're so _annoying!_" Morgan finally said. "Whatever." Thinking to himself, he reached into the electronics console and felt around. He hadn't really tested his new powers yet, but he decided now was as good a time as ever to see if a vampire could work with electricity. Closing his eyes, he let his senses enter the system. Sensing around, he found the main line to the generators that powered the doors. Letting himself smile, he overloaded them, forcing the doors open. Any guard standing next to a console was instantly forced back from the showers of sparks, as ghouls spread through the tunnels. Unable to contain them, the guards fell back into their control stations, trying desperately to contact anyone outside using their handhelds. "Thanks, Doc," Morgan said, taking his hand away. "Now, gents, let's go tour the Capitol building."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Finally landing inside the perimeter, Rally and May jumped off, Anne ordering the chopper to hover near the area. "_Can you read me, Rally?_" she asked.

"Loud and clear, Anne," Rally said, pressing her hand on the earbud. "We're heading to the briefing now." Showing badges Anne had given them, they were first shown to a tent to get tactical suits on. Looking at themselves, they felt they looked out of character in such heavy outfits.

"Look at me!" May said, tugging at her Kevlar vest. "I look like a stinkin' cop! I'm too cute to wear one of these!"

"You know it's for your own good, May," Rally said. "Here, help me with this strap."

"But we know the President's dead if it's this bad," May grumbled. "We could just bomb the White House, save everyone the time."

"Wouldn't work," Rally said, looking over a SPAS-12 on the weapons table, the putting it down in exchange for a Remington 870. "We have to presume that there are other survivors inside. Plus the fact that we can't blow up the White House and expect people to take it in stride. It'd be like…" Rally thought carefully for a minute. "It'd be like demolishing the Purple Pussy. It may not mean much to me, but it's important to you, isn't it? Well, that's what the White House is to everyone else."

May had to concede defeat, nodding with a smile. "I get it, Rally." She giggled. "But don't expect me to behave once I find some semtex!"

"You need to work on your sense of humor," Rally said, checking May's suit, and handing her an MP5. "Okay, let's head to the briefing." Walking out of the tent, they were lead to a larger tent, hearing voices inside talking calmly, until a loud southern voice cried, "What do you mean 'no explosives'?"

Rushing inside the tent, Rally saw a group of soldiers staring angrily at a man and woman wearing tactical suits, a few with their fingers on the triggers. "Excuse me," Rally said, with as much authority as she could gather. "I was told we were needed for a briefing."

"Yes, you are!" said a middle-aged bald man. "Deputy Director Skinner, Ms. Vincent, Ms. Hopkins," he said, shaking their hands. "We were just going over the details right before you arrived. Please," he said, motioning to the table. "These are agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI," he said, "And Sgt. Redford and his men from the 222nd Army Battalion." The Sergeant nodded hello, but his men were less than welcoming. "Now, what briefing do you need?"

"Who's still alive, for one," Rally said, looking over the blueprints. "So the plan is to secure the building section by section, along with any survivors. What about the one who did this?"

"Arrest him," Agent Mulder said. "He has to stand trial for this, no matter what."

"Of course," Rally said, knowing the truth. "_Like it or not, Mulder, but he's gonna have to die, no matter what._" "So when do we go in?"

"Ten minutes," Skinner said, Redford stopping his men from saying anything. "Unless you have any objections."

"We should move in now," Rally said. "Every minute we wait, the survivors have less time."

"Agreed," Scully said. "Sir, it's your decision."

Skinner thought for a minute, but he decided the agents had the strongest point. "Alright. But the minute we see something, you all pull back, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" they all said, going to the fence next to the West Wing, where a group of agents were finished cutting through with angle grinders. As the pieces were taken away, the team moved through the gap, the squad taking up firing positions while Haggard and Sweetwater ran to the window. Checking inside, they didn't see anyone inside. Nodding, the two fired through the window, Haggard's shotgun and Sweetwater's SAW tearing apart the furniture and china inside, portraits and pieces of art destroyed in an instant. Checking again, the still didn't see anything moving. They signaled to the others, who ran up and through the windows, as Haggard, Sweetwater, and two other enlisted covered the upper windows. Scanning the area, Redford called clear, and the team lowered their weapons. Slightly.

"Sergeant, you lead a team through the first floor. Agents, you take the second and third. My partner and I will move through to the main building."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Ma'am," Redford said, holding Rally back. "It's better to leave a team at the causeway to make sure that we don't get overwhelmed. If you move in and we lost you, we'd lose a third of the team, and I won't allow loses on this mission."

"As much as I appreciate your concern, Sergeant, the country's already suffered enough losses." Rally walked to the door. "Agents, I want you to secure the Executive Residence. My partner and I will take the East Wing."

"By yourselves?" Agent Mulder said. "What are you, crazy, look at the damage that's been done! Even after those two shot up the office look at all the blood in here! This person took out an entire detachment of secret service and Marines, and you want to go in to part of the mansion alone?"

"I just wanna know who put you in charge," Haggard said. "I could understand these two giving the orders," he said, pointing at Mulder and Scully. "But I wasn't told we'd be following you around. What are you anyway?" Sweetwater and the other soldiers just stared at Haggard. He wasn't an idiot, but hearing him put together such a cohesive argument was…off in some way.

With a huff, Rally pulled out the ID Anne had given her, showing her as part of the Secret Service. "We think the traitor was one of our own assigned to guard the president. It's the only possible explanation for how they could have made it this close and eliminated the security detail as fast as they did."

"Secret Service, huh?" Sweetwater said. "So why should we think there aren't more traitors? For all we know, you two are working with this guy to take out the team that came to take out your buddy." A few of the other soldiers mumbled agreement.

"_ALL OF YOU SHUT UP WITH THE CONSPIRACY CRAP!_" Redford said. "They're US Federal agents investigating this thing, and right now we're along for the ride, before someone hears us!"

"The already have," Mulder said, backing away from the door. "Listen." Shutting up, everyone heard a faint moaning just outside the door.

"Well we have to get out there, Mulder, someone's probably seriously injured-"

"I wouldn't recommend that," Rally said, cutting off Scully. "If anyone's making any noise, it's because they aren't who they were." She checked the chamber of her shotgun and aimed at the door, May doing the same with her MP5. "I'd recommend doing the same."

The soldiers, Mulder and Scully did so, and waited. As they did, the moans outside grew. They heard shuffling, grunting, even the crash of a desk outside. It was the waiting. The simple fact of waiting to see what was outside, that was killing them. Then a banging. The doors shook with the sounds of dozens of fists pounding against the door. The wood started to splinter, to break apart. A single gunshot rang out, and the floodgates opened. The soldiers just kept firing, tearing through the doors. Every split-second, Mulder thought he saw the shape of the people on the other side, but the state of their faces meant they couldn't possibly be alive.

"_CEASE FIRE!_" Redford ordered. "_CEASE FIRE NOW, DAMNIT!_"

The fire tapered off, and the doors collapsed in, the bodies behind them falling to the floor like a wave.

"What the hell were you all thinking!" Redford said. "You want to kill someone!"

"They're already dead," Scully said. Looking over, Redford saw that the bodies, despite the bulletholes, were already worse for wear. A few of the men covered their mouths or looked for a trashcan, but finally settled on the window. Those were the objects in the room that were the least covered in gore. "Their skin, their muscles, they've all been stripped away." She bent down to look closer. "There's also a massive wound on the neck, consistent with a large bite."

"Get away!" Rally said, pulling Scully back from her "patient". Scully would be glad she did, because the body dragged itself up, but kept to the ground thanks to a shattered spinal column. Bringing up her shotgun, she fired a shot, blasting the monster's head to pieces.

"What was that!" Scully said, scrambling up, Mulder helping her. "That hole in his neck, he shouldn't even be able to move, much less groan!"

"These things aren't alive," Rally said, faking surprise. "That's why they still kept coming even after we kept shooting!"

"What's this we business, we did all the shooting," Sweetwater said, missing the point by a mile.

"Sweetwater," Redford growled, ready to sock Sweetwater, held back only by policy and the fact that no one else handled the SAW as well as Sweetwater, though they would probably keep much quieter than he could ever be. "For once, I think we should actually do as the nice people tell us and take care of business." He turned to Rally. "It's your order, ma'am."

"Then they're the same ones I just gave you," Rally said. "Agents Mulder and Scully, stay here and check the area for any survivors and clues, keep some of the men with you." Ejecting the empty shell from her weapon, she walked up to the pile of bodies. "And make sure you shoot the head." Without pause, she and May fired over and over into the pile, the others watching with some…slight discomfort. "Questions?"

The team did as ordered, Rally, May and the squad moving through the colonnade, while Mulder, Scully and four soldiers were left behind to police the area.

"This wasn't an assassination," one of the soldiers said. "This was a God damn massacre!"

"We won't know that until we're finished," Scully said, still shaken. Nearly being eaten clearly wasn't doing her any good.

"Scully, look at this," Mulder said. "This room is still barricaded from behind the door, there might be someone behind it."

"Hey, don't look at us!" the ranking soldier, a corporal, said. "We're not breaking down any doors, not after that!"

"But your sergeant ordered you to stay with us," Mulder said. "Added to the fact that you're all under the command of the FBI-"

"Oh Christ!" one of the privates yelled. "They didn't tell you a damn thing about us, did they!"

"Tell us later," Mulder said. "Or I'll make sure you're all charged with obstruction of justice."

"Like that'd do anything," the corporal said, taking some grenades from his men and putting them next to the door. "Okay, back to the Oval Office!" They all ran back, the corporal throwing his own grenade before ducking inside, the explosion blowing the door almost off its hinges. The soldiers were the first inside, signaling all clear. Going inside, Mulder and Scully saw only three bodies in the room, a Marine and two staffers, one of them the same as the things that tried to attack them, the other bodies were relatively normal looking, the Marine clutching a pistol. Sure they were all dead, Scully kneeled down and looked them over.

"They were all killed by gunshot wounds to the head," she said, checking them over. "But the Marine and staff worker appear to be bitten…but they weren't transformed."

"So they killed themselves?" one of the soldiers asked. "Why?"

"Maybe to keep this from getting them too," Mulder said. "What if the only way to keep yourself from becoming one of these things is to stop the infection from taking over?"

"So this is a virus?" another soldier said, panicked. "Then we gotta get outta here, man, we need MOPP gear!"

"It can't be a virus!" the third soldier said. "Virus' don't work that fast, do they?"

"You'd be surprised," Scully said, remembering her past experience with a certain insect. "But these all took place in under five hours, Mulder, and that's far beyond the normal incubation time for even the common cold."

"Maybe this is something else, Scully," Mulder said. "What if this isn't a traditional disease, one that isn't a corruption of cells, but the soul?"

"What are you, man, FBI's hash division?" one of the soldiers said, he and the others staring at Mulder like he was nuts. Then again, with Mulder, that was nothing unusual.

"No, I mean something different." He pointed at the corpse that was clearly "infected". "Look at the wound on the neck? All the victims all seem to have the same neck wounds. Now what creature only bites the neck?"

The soldiers looked at Mulder like he was well and truly insane. "You're kidding me," the corporal said. "I mean, it's just, well c'mon!" he said, waving his arms at the corpses. "I won't even say what you think did this, because it's just damn silly!"

"But think about it for a minute," Mulder said, putting a hand up. "These things are nearly invincible, they've only just started coming out during the night, what else could they be?"

"Zombies!" a private said. "You can only kill a vampire with a stake to the heart, right? But we shot these things in the head, and that's the only way you can kill a zombie!"

"I don't think so," Mulder said. "Look at how many shots it took to kill this one," he said, pointing to the multiple exit wounds on the "infected" body. "If this were some kind of zombie, one shot should have done it, right? But this one has multiple bullet wounds, all from the Marine's gun. Look over there," he said, pointing next to the Marine's body. They turned and saw an empty magazine. "He had to change magazines in order to finish the job. Doesn't seem like an easy kill."

"Maybe it's something else," Scully said. "We've both seen the reports on rogue bio-labs dealing with modifying diseases, what if this is some kind of rabies?"

"Released in the White House?" Mulder said, not convinced. "What about New York and LA? Why let us get a handle on this problem so easily, why not let the virus loose through the city? And the idea of using airborne rabies is ridiculous, not unless they made a vaccine too."

"Um, we hate to interrupt this little tete-a-tete," the corporal said. "But aren't you two supposed to, oh, I don't know, _figure out what happened!_"

"Well there's not much more we can tell, really," Scully said. "This entire floor is probably a repeat of this."

"Speaking of which," said the first private. "I think the party's coming back down!"

Listening, the group heard a fresh set of moans coming their way. Running to the stairs, they saw another group of staff and security coming their way. "Remember, aim for the head!" Mulder said, firing his 226, as the soldiers let loose with their M4s. The first ghoul went down in a heap, tripping the next few, giving the group easy shots. Then the ghouls started shooting back. A pistol round caught the third soldier in the chest, sending him down, but not taking him out. The two other privates pulled him back, while the corporal, Mulder and Scully took cover behind the left corner. "Still think this is rabies, Scully?" Mulder said, as bullets ricocheted off the wall.

"Not the time!" the corporal yelled, firing around the corner.

* * *

Rally and the others heard the gunfire, and then their radio sets came alive. "_This is West team, we're under fire from…vampire…zombie…mutant rabies…ah, hell, we're under fire, damnit!_"

"Any wounded?" Redford asked.

"_Negative,_" the corporal said. "_Hawkins took a round, but the vest took the brunt. We almost done here yet!_"

"Give us a little while longer," Redford said, turning to Rally. "Agent, I know my men aren't exactly the Army's favorites, but they're still my men, and I _will_ hold it against you if anything happens."

"Duly noted," Rally said, edging her way into the Executive Residence, turning to see the soldiers just treating this as another walk through the park. "Hey! I know you guys are good, but can you _try_ to take this a bit more seriously?"

"Aw, c'mon," Haggard said. "It's not like those things can shot well."

"And besides, they're all using pistols, and landing a kill shot with a pistol, such as a shot to the head and vital organs, is going to be more than challenging to even a professional!" Sweetwater was on a roll now. "Really, what are the odds those things are going to get any of us?"

Rally was shooting daggers over at Redford. "You know, for Special Forces, your men aren't very well trained."

The soldiers stopped, and slowly, burst out laughing like crazy. "Us? Special Forces?" Sweetwater said, trying to regain control. "Who the hell told you that?"

"You…you're not special forces?" Rally asked, May staring at the soldiers in shock.

"You kidding us!" Haggard laughed. "This is _Bad_ company, darlin', what'd you think you were getting!"

"He's right," Redford said with a sigh. "I don't know who briefed you, but Bad Company is made up of the soldiers they send in because it's too expensive to waste the Special Forces on."

"So that's why your service was shortened!" May said. "Because you didn't do anything to deserve this!"

"I'm sure I did something," Redford said. "Then again, I didn't let a virus loose on the defense net, or blow up the largest ammo dump in the US Army!" he shouted, looking at Sweetwater and Haggard, respectively.

"We can worry about that later," Rally said. "Let's just clear the actual house." Going up to the door, Rally had Sweetwater come up. "Blast the hinges, okay?"

"But why not use a bomb!" Haggard said. "Blowing the door would give us a wider field of fire and less of a chance of being caught in a bottleneck!"

"Amateur," May said. "A little door like this shouldn't have any explosives wasted on it! You're just a pyromaniac who wants to get his jollies off!"

"First of all, pyromaniac involves _fire_, not explosives!" Haggard said. "Second, what if there's someone behind that door waiting for us! Sure give them a nice surprise!"

"Haggard, do as she says!" Redford barked. Grunting, Haggard waited for the others to get into position. Getting the thumbs up from Rally, Haggard blasted the lock, kicking in the door and letting the others storm in.

"Clear!" Rally said, the others echoing. Satisfied that the room was clear, they regrouped, Rally hearing a distant moan upstairs. "Alright, Sergeant, you and your men clear the upstairs. We'll stay down here and keep an eye out for any enemy stragglers."

"Affirmative," Redford said, turning to his men. "You heard the lady! Sweetwater, Haggard, get upstairs and secure the area! The rest of us will follow, we'll split up and take both stairs!"

"What are we really gonna do, Rally?" May asked, checking her MP5.

"Anne wants us to check the tunnels under the capitol, just to make sure our friend didn't get out." Waiting until she was sure Redford and his men had gone, she and May ran through the East Colonnade to the East Wing, down to the E.O.C. Seeing a ghoul standing over the phone, she fired and dropped it, putting another round in the head for good measure. Pressing on her earbud, she contacted Anne as she circled the White House. "This is Artemis; we've separated from Army squad and are awaiting further instructions, over?"

"_Nice work, Rally,_" Anne said. "_Faster than I expected, as well. The combination for the telephone is 11110._"

"Pretty simple combination," Rally said, punching it in. "Someone definitely went down in the tunnels, there was a ghoul standing guard."

"_Unfortunate,_" Anne sighed. "_Have you found anything else?_"

"First family is secure, I had Sgt. Redford deal with their rescue. Nice pick by the way," she said, as the door behind her slowly opened. "You didn't tell me they were the Army's penal company!"

"_At least the agents I had lent to you were competent enough_," Anne said.

"Yeah right," May said. "They nearly got themselves killed! You said they dealt with this sort of thing on a regular basis!"

"_Well, their main focus is actually on extra-terrestrials, but that's not important right now. Your orders still stand, Rally. Get into those tunnels and hunt this thing down, before he causes any more problems!_"

"Roger, Artemis out." Nodding at May, Rally and her partner ran into the tunnels.

* * *

Stopping at the landing, Sweetwater looked around the corner and ducked back quickly, shaking. "You know, Sarge, maybe we can wait these things out, you know? I mean, just wait, be patient, wait for these things to fall apart, know what I'm saying?"

"Sweetwater, that's the president's family in there," Redford whispered sharply. "Everyone, spread out through the hall and take a firing position! Team two, you in position?"

"_Almost,_" the corporal said. "_There's a barricade in our way at the dining room. We're trying to keep quiet, but that's gonna be tough._"

"Change of plans then. We'll still draw their attention, but you move fast, damnit, or else they're gonna tear right through us quick, got it?"

"_Roger, Sarge, we'll do our best._"

"Alright, Sweetwater, take the left, try to keep your fire in short bursts. Haggard, you take out any that come too close for comfort. You," Redford said, pointing at the last man, whose name he hadn't quite remembered yet. "Don't do anything that would keep me from retiring, or I _will_ feed you to those things!" The man did as ordered, and the team took positions on the landing and the sitting hall behind them, before Redford finally ordered, "Fire!"

The shots ripped through the ghouls, turning their attention to the soldiers. They staggered forward, moaning and grunting, a wave of death, coming straight down the center hall. Sweetwater tried to keep his bursts high and short, but years of training were hard to overcome. The other soldier, used to using his sights, actually had the better hit ratio. But the group was bigger than it seemed, and for every ghoul dropped, another appeared behind it. "Team two, get your asses in gear!"

"_We're trying!_" the corporal said, the sounds of clanging metal clear in the background. "_They piled this stuff up high! We're almost through!_"

Cursing, Redford sighted and fired. By now, Haggard was firing, his shotgun chewing through the beasts like a great white on an angry fisherman. But the ghouls were resilient, and Team One was pushed back, into the sitting hall. "All of you, spread out through the rooms, make sure you have a clear field of fire!" Quickly the team split, Haggard, Sweetwater, and the private taking positions in the Lincoln bedroom and Queen's bedroom, Redford and the private taking the two sitting rooms. Waiting for the ghouls to finally clear, Sweetwater and Haggard let loose, kneeling and firing up to keep any stray rounds from slamming into one another. The ghouls, seeing four meals to choose from, split up. This actually made it easier for the men to choose their shots more carefully, and with the decreased range, they actually made short work of the ghouls. Redford was reloading when he looked up to see a ghoul right on top of him reaching down with its decaying hands. Redford turned away, trying however he could to defend himself, feeling the monster fall on him. Then, when he noticed that the thing wasn't biting or tearing at him, he looked up to see it was missing a sizeable chunk of it's brain. Looking across the hall, he saw the private had saved him.

"Crap, these things stink something fierce!" Haggard said, stepping out from the Lincoln bedroom. "I need a Goddamn shower now!"

"Later, Haggard," Redford said, pushing the thing off. "That was nice work there private. What's your name again?"

"Preston Marlowe, Sarge," the private said. "I couldn't not do it. You said you'd feed me to those things, after all."

"Don't be a wise-ass, son, 'specially not when I'm in such a good mood."

They all ducked back into their rooms when Team Two finally cleared the kitchen, firing down the hall and screaming, until they realized that Sarge and the others were unharmed. "Sorry, Sarge!" the corporal yelled. "Thought you were them!"

"You do that again, Jenkins, and I'll shove that gun where the sun don't shine and pull the trigger!" Shaking his head, he knocked on the door. "This is Sgt. Redford, US Army! Is anyone alive in there?"

Silence, then, "Yes! In here!" a man's voice yelled.

"Don't shoot, we're coming in!" Slowly opening the door, Redford and Marlow shined their lights inside, showing two secret service agents, some staff, and the first wife and lady in the back corner. "Everyone alright in here?"

"Everyone's fine," said one of the agents. "Agent Caitlin Todd."

"Delighted," Redford said. "No one in here was bit, right?"

"Made sure of it," Todd said, holstering her weapon. "We got a way out?"

"Affirmative. Jenkins, get your damn hand away from the trigger and lead these people downstairs!" Letting Jenkins take charge, he radioed to Cpl. Holchek. "Bravo Two, this is Bravo Actual, come in, over."

"_Bravo Two here_," Holchek said. "_We're clear here, Sarge. Mulder and Scully are looking around now._"

"Tell them we're moving back to the Oval Office with hostages-" He paused, noting something was off. "Hold on, Bravo Two." He went over to Sweetwater. "Sweetwater, quick, why would these things be slamming on the doors to the bedroom when everyone in there was quieter than Marlow over here?"

"Well, Sarge, humans actually do have rather a rather keen sense of smell. Maybe that's how these things hunt."

"Look again, Sweetwater!" Redford said, pointing to a vent in the ceiling. "Those are still running, the smell from those things is already going away!"

"You're saying they were there on purpose, Sarge?" Sweetwater said with shock.

"Exactly," Redford answered, grabbing his radio and dialing in Rally's channel. "Agent Vincent, come in, over." Static. "Agent Vincent, this is Sgt. Redford, please respond!" More static. He changed to Jenkins' channel. "Jenkins, where are you?"

"_Just about to call, Sarge,_" Jenkins said. "_Weren't those Secret Service agents supposed to be down here?_"

"Shit, I knew this was too good to be true!" Redford said. "Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully grab Holchek and get down to the Center Hall, now!"

"On the way," Mulder said, getting up from the body he and Scully were looking over. "Corporal, do you know what happened?"

"Only that the hostages were rescue," he said. "That's all."

"That is suspicious," Mulder said.

"What do you mean?" Holchek asked, as the six jogged through the colonnade.

"Why are we thinking of them as hostages? They were trapped, yes, but not in the way a person would normally think of as being a hostage situation."

"You think they were bait?" Holchek said, looking at Mulder.

"If we didn't get to the room in time, they become dinner," Scully said. "If we do, we save the president's family, but no one important. So why keep all the ghouls together to just make us get them?"

"I think someone wanted us focused while they slipped out," Mulder said. "That one girl was too short to be an agent anywhere."

"She sure wasn't an Army black op," Holchek said. "They'd never work with us."

"So we have two unidentified and armed women running around in the White House. So why not kill us all?" one of the privates asked.

"Maybe they need us for something else," Mulder said, looking back at the pile of bodies. Entering the residence, they linked up with Redford and the hostages. "Sergeant, I think we should get the family and staff out of here as quickly as possible."

"Just thinking that, Agent," Redford said. "Holchek, you and Jenkins take your teams and escort the hostages out of the White House."

"What about you, Sarge?" Holchek asked.

"We haven't gotten any calls from outside about the agents. My hunch is they're still in the building. In fact, I think they're still in the East Wing."

"We'll come with you," Mulder said. "Something tells me that these two may be connected with more than a dozen other secret government operations responsible for the deaths of hundreds, including US military personnel."

"Alright, we could probably use the backup anyway. C'mon, let's get to the East Wing."

Sparing a glance over her shoulder, Agent Todd saw the four soldiers and two FBI agents running towards the East Wing. "Where are they going?" she asked the Corporal leading them.

"Uh…the Sarge is just making sure that everyone is clear of the building," Holchek said. Mentally, he was cursing his inability to lie, the same inability that got him into B Company.

"Sure," Agent Todd said. "Let's just get everyone out now, okay?"

* * *

Watching from the base, Col. O'Neil called everyone to the TV. "Guys, take a look! A team just came out of the White House!" As the others came close, O'Neil turned up the volume.

"-_Onderful moment, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see the first lady and her daughter being escorted from the White House to the cordon around the grounds._"

"Peter, Peter, is there any sign of the President?" the anchor asked.

"_I can't see him at the current time,_" the reporter said, as the camera showed the group moving away from the Oval Office. "_But I can tell you that, earlier, there were more soldiers going in than there are now coming out-oh my God!_" They all knew what the reporter was so shocked by, seeing a final soldier being thrown out the window. Before the man could turn and try to get back in, a metal barrier slammed down on, all the windows and doors shuttered with heavy metal barriers.

"What was that!" Hastert said, grabbing onto Teal'c. "What on Earth just happened!"

"Security system," Carter said. "Probably put in place during the Cold War, maybe in case an assault was made on Washington."

"But why activate it now?" Jackson said. "The purpose is to keep people out, right? Why close it when there's no actual threat?"

"Maybe they do not want to keep anyone from entering, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "Perhaps they want to keep people from leaving."

O'Neil just scratched his head. "Doesn't concern us," he said. "Your staff and bodyguards are going to be here any second, sir. I'd recommend setting things up so we can keep the country running properly, we'll just keep guard. Anyone want something to eat?"

"I am indeed famished, Colonel O'Neil," Teal'c said.

"Yeah, I could use some coffee, too. Just please don't have them bring down anything Mexican, sir, I don't think I could handle it."

"Got it," O'Neil said, going over to the phone. "How bout you, sir? You want anything? It's only MREs, but it's still better than nothing."

"I-I'm fine," Hastert said. "Just some water." Shruggin, O'Neil went over and dialed the number for the base commissary. While O'Neil made the call, Hastert turned to Carter. "Your colonel…he's not how I expected him to be."

"Col. O'Neil puts garrison standards very low," Carter said. "As long as we can do a job and do it well, he doesn't have a problem."

"I see." Hastert looked at O'Neil again. Somehow, he didn't put his survival chances very high with that man guarding him.

* * *

The Learjet carrying Hastert's staff and guards took off for Area 51 after letting the men off at Butts Army Airfield. The small convoy, three humvees, drove towards Cheyenne Mountain, the soldiers watching their charges carefully for any sign of uncharacteristic behavior for the time. What they saw were only scared staffers in the second humvee and two grim secret service in the third agents. The soldier watching the staff in the humvee noticed that one was holding his head and his stomach. "Hey man, you okay?"

"Just a little nervous," the staffer said. "It's all just so bizarre…"

"Don't worry, this base is probably the safest place in the whole country. Here," the soldier said, taking some gum out of his pocket. "This always helps me."

"Thanks," the staffer said, taking the gum. "You're really telling the truth about this place being safe?"

"Absolutely," the soldier said. "They're usually sealed up so tight, you need to be a colonel just to have a chance of getting in." The soldier smiled. "If whoever did this ever managed to get past us, let's be honest, we'd deserve what happens." The soldier was surprised to see the staffer suddenly look even worse. The third humvee was somewhat more professional, the agents and soldiers having little to talk about. In minutes, they pulled up to the famous North Portal. Exchanging quick courtesies to the airmen on guard, the soldiers quickly drove back to the base, leaving the airmen to escort the group to the senator.

"Now before we take you to the senator, we just need to run through a fast security check to finally ensure there are no traitors present." The senators staff agreed, the security forces coming over and going through a quick pat down. The secret service agents, however, pushed the security forces back, the guards quickly putting their hands on their weapons. "Agents," the staff sergeant in charge said. "Please, we just need to be sure, everyone is subject to search."

"No we aren't," they both said simultaneously. "Because in a second, it will be more than obvious who the security risk is."

The security forces drew their weapons, the staffers running for cover, a few stray rounds going off. The agents split up, working in tandem, striking every target at the same time. The agent in the guard station sent the alarm through the base, but the agents were already well on their through the metal doors, leaving the staffers and few surviving security officers to deal with the reanimating ghouls.

"Open those doors!" the ranking airman barked, shooting at the wriggling remains of what was the staff sergeant.

"I can't!" the airman said, shooting at another reanimated airman. "Ms. Warbucks had me set the doors to be opened only after twenty four hours, no less!"

"Damnit!" the ranking airman swore, turning to fire on another ghoul. "Get as much welding equipment as we can find up here! I want those doors open yesterday!"

* * *

J looked out the window of the building he was holed up in, and saw the creatures still moving down the streets like a tidal wave. "The one day I decide to take care of Ivana Trump's case, this happens."

"Hey man, you sure those things won't get to us?" one of the workers asked. J turned, looking at the workers who had been trapped with him by the monsters. "I mean, how do we know they won't come up the stairs and get us!"

"It's fine," J said. "Those doors can only be opened from the inside, and we made sure to disable the elevators. The only way those things are getting in here is if they could fly."

"Don't tempt fate man," the man whined. "Seriously, who are you, anyway?"

"Why you askin' me that now?" J said, spinning away from the window. "Look, we safe, we secure, and none of us is turning into those things. So I suggest we all get loose and relax."

"How can you say that!" a woman screeched, making J check his ears. "The police are overrun, and the same thing is happening in Washington and LA! How on Earth could we possibly relax!"

"Jeez, lady, calm down!" J said. "Gettin' all _riled_ up over this! Look, you stay calm, don't panic, and this'll just all blow over, know what I'm sayin'?"

"And why should we listen to you?" another man said. "Who are you anyway?"

"NYPD, Division 6," J said, pulling out a set of fake credentials. "I was coming in to check on a parole case. Good thing I was here, ah?"

"What the hell are you talking about!" an older man said. "I was on the force for years, and I've never heard of any 'Division 6'!"

"That's cause we're your best kept secret," J said. "Now how bout someone goes to the nearest TV and keep the rest of us updated, okay?"

The old man knew that the man was lying through his teeth, but he didn't have the energy to argue about it. Grabbing another one of the office workers, they went to the break room, while J kept watch.

"Anyone know how many people are on the upper floors?" J asked.

"No idea," the first man said. "Seriously, who are you!"

"Man, why you gotta keep goin' on about that!" J said. "Look, we safe, we cool, and we got nothing to…worry about." Out of the corner of his eye, J saw a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, smoking a cigarette as she sat in her cubicle. "Excuse me." Walking over, the woman saw J and smiled.

"Hey J," she said, putting out the cigarette. "You didn't come just to see me, did you?"

"What are you doing, Alana," J whispered, leaning in close. "You weren't cleared for this suit for at least three more weeks."

"C'mon, J, we both know that the MIB are only as good as their information." She exhaled into J's face. "Besides, unless you want the Sornian Kingdom to attack earth for the death of one of its princesses, you'll be my escort for the rest of the night."

"As I recall, the only reason we took you in was because your 'empire' was under assault, and your daddy didn't want you messing things up." J arched an eyebrow. "Or am I just confused?"

Alana frowned. "My daddy sent me here so that I wouldn't be killed. So I suggest you make sure that doesn't happen, or the last thing this pitiful planet sees will be one of his lesser frigates blowing a hole straight to the core, got it?"

J got up and walked back to the rest of the civilians, shaking his head. "Why's she so worried anyway?" he whispered. "Suit's made to last, damnit."

"What was that about?" the man asked.

"She's the parolee," J said. "And let me tell you to stay away. That one's more trouble than she's worth."

"You kidding?" the man laughed. "She's the biggest flirt in the office!"

"She's also got more diseases that you can even count," J said, being quite serious. Taking out his communicator, he cursed. The accident that wrecked the car threw him right into the dash, crushing the communicator like paper. "Zentradi tech is the strongest out there," he said in a high pitched mock. The phones were down too, so there was no contacting the MIB that way either. And even if he tried to use more "alien" methods, Alana would probably try to hold it over his head for some kind of "favor", and that was something J did not want to think about.

* * *

"'Ere we are," the cop said, Mendez seeing the car pull up to the local police station. "C'mon, let's get moving."

"Easy man," Mendez said, helping Figgins get out. "We're on your side, can't you get that?"

"We won't take chances," the officer said. "Not tonight. Now follow me, and don't try anything foolish, or I'll see to it that your faces aren't recognizable to your own bloody mothers."

Getting out, Mendez saw the police station was barricaded, park benches and sandbags thrown together with cars to make little checkpoints, manned by as many police and locals as could be gathered. Walking inside, the station was a flurry of activity, men and women running about with papers and folders, a few brave souls manning the telephones. The officer took Mendez and Figgins to the cells, motioning them in, locking the doors and walking off. Giving the officer a rather rude gesture as he walked off, he checked on Figgins. "Hey, Figgins, how you hold'n up, man?"

"Fine, just fine," Figgins said, his eyes distant. "Say, Mendez, do you think we'll be charged with dereliction of duty for leaving the base like that?"

"Nah, man, you kidding?" Mendez said with a small laugh. "Hell, if anything, they'll put us in the safest base on Earth. You always said you wanted to go to NORAD, right?"

"Yeah, I put the transfer in last month." Figgins looked up at the ceiling. "Who did this, man? Why would they do something like this?"

"I don't know," Mendez said. "But we're alive, and that's what matters right now. We'll just talk to the chief around here, get things straightened out."

"I hope so," Figgins said. "I'd like to make that transfer."

"You will buddy," Mendez said. "You will."

"You the Americans?" Turning at the voice, Mendez saw a hefty man, not unhealthily obese, but rather stocky. "I'm Superintendant Locke. I'm told you've both come from Mildenhall."

"That's affirmative, sir," Mendez said, standing at attention. It probably wouldn't hurt to act formal, given the situation. "I deemed it necessary to vacate the base when the attack commenced."

"Why is that?" Locke said, suspicious, his nose wrinkling. The smell of the men's disguise was still rather fresh.

"By the time either of us realized what was happening, the base was already in flames," Mendez said, trying to straighten himself up even more. "My wingman and I commandeered a car and decided to make a run for London."

"Why not Lakenheath?" Locke said.

"It came over the radio, sir," Mendez said. "It was how I knew to save my wingman here. I heard what was happening in Lakenheath and wanted to know why we weren't doing anything about it."

"I see," Locke said, looking suspicious. "Well, either way, you gentlemen would not have made much progress. London is-"

"Sir, I believe I should talk with you in private about such matters," Mendez said. "My wingman is…still recovering from the escape."

Looking over at Figgins, Locke nodded. "Very well," he said, having the officer with him unlock the cell door. "Come to my office, I'll explain the situation there."

Following Locke through the station, he saw the officer step to the side and close the door the second Mendez walked through. Locke simply sat in his chair and glared at Mendez. "London was attacked a short time after your base went to hell, it seems," he said. "What's being scrounged from the Royal Army is being sent to quarantine the city. Royal Air Force is being mobilized, but it's taking some time thanks to the attacks of which you speak."

"What about the rest of Britan?" Mendez asked.

"The same bloody state," Locke said. "No one's really able to get in contact with anyone in a position of authority, so we had to fall back to an old plan from the Cold War." He grabbed a large sheaf of papers from his desk and flipped to the center. "In the event that communications with London and other major powers in government are interrupted, all local police and military bases are to take their own commands until the situation has passed and power returned to Parliament." He put the papers down. "And that's the best plan we have, really."

"It won't work, not with these things," Mendez said, dropping the formalities. "They're fast and tough. The shambling ones can take multiple shots to the head without dropping. And from what I can tell the top line ones are faster than any bullet."

"Top line?" Locke said, confused. "You're saying we're under attack by some kind of machine?"

"No, I'm saying it because it's the only way to describe these things." Mendez went over to the desk and noticed the chief tense. "Buddy, don't you think that if I was one of those things, I would've take the chance by now?"

"Fair point," Locke said. "What do you need?"

"A map, preferably of the local area." Locke nodded, going up to a pull down wall map. "Alright, you have a roadblock on the 115. You should probably move that as soon as possible."

"You're joking!" Locke said, shooting up in his chair. "That highway is a vital part of the area! We need to keep it blockaded, it's the best thing to slow down any possible attacks on any neighboring areas!"

"This isn't some invading army," Mendez said. "It's a group of traitors, and they knew what they're going to do. Blocking the highway won't stop them from taking another route."

"So what do you suggest then, eh?" Locke growled. "Just abandon the town? Do you have any idea how mad trying to evacuate everyone in such a short time would be!"

"I'm not talking about evacuating," Mendez said, looking over the map. "I'm talking about delaying. Leave the roadblocks you have in place, but get your men back. Light those things on fire if you have to. Once that's done, bring your officers to surround the town with better roadblocks. By the time whoever did this gets past the first blockades, you and your men will already be prepared to keep'em back."

"And what about the farmers who live out here, yank?" Locke said. "Right now they're counting on me to protect them! Now you tell me I have to abandon them?"

"You really think these guys are really concerned about a few families?" Mendez just stared at Locke. "Chief, they just ripped through an entire RAF base, and you think they'll really care about some random English redneck!"

"You don't care at all!" Locke said, slamming his fist down on his desk. "Does your concern for the innocent really stop as soon as you leave your country!"

"Don't talk like that, old man, I'm trying to help!" Mendez said. "Look, you want help, me and my buddy turn up and offer!"

"Your friend, as you can clearly tell, is in no right state of mind to do anything!" Locke said.

Both men tried to stare each other down, but eventually backed down. "You got anyone around here who can help him?" Mendez asked.

"The town has a psychiatrist or two, I can have my men go through and ask their services." Locke shook his head. "I'm just suspicious, you understand. Out of nowhere, two Americans show up, saying they've come from Mildenhall. London's burning, and I have my own duties to care for. You understand, of course?"

"I do, sir," Mendez said. "Look, I realize that you want to protect your people. But right now, we're in triage mode. If they have any problems with what I'm suggesting, than we can hash that out after this is all over."

"If they survive," Locke said. Mendez didn't nod, but he gave Locke an affirmative that he understood. "I'll put my men and some road teams on what you said immediately. I also promise that your man will get some kind of help, even if it's a primary school therapist."

"Thank you, sir," Mendez said, putting his hand out. Locke looked at it for a second, then at Mendez. Both men considered each other odd to size up, Mendez's city life a stark contrast with Locke's English country upbringing. But they soon realized that it was possible the other had something they needed to get through whatever was happening, and Locke slowly shook Mendez's hand.

"If this fails-"

"If it does, I don't think either of us is going to see that." Nodding with each other, Locke went out bellowing orders into the station, making sure his people understood exactly what was at stake.

* * *

The car finally gave up on Fountain Avenue, Riggs and Murtaugh shooting their way out of the things that tried to surround them and running for the nearest high building. Quickly scanning the area, Riggs pointed to "Ladder Depot", and after a quick break in, the pair were atop the building, looking over the destruction. Small fires burned into the night, lone sirens breaking up the dwindling gunfire and panicked screams.

"So what now, Rog?" Riggs said, reloading his beretta. "We're stuck here, those things are everywhere, but your family's safe."

"That's the only reason I'm still goin', Riggs," Roger said. "I don't suppose you ever came across things like this during your black ops days?"

"Not once," Riggs said. "It's not a drug, and it's definitely not a riot. I don't know what to do, Rog, but we better do something fast, or else we're gonna be dinner." Riggs stomach then growled. "Uh, speaking of dinner, I know this Thai place right down the way here-"

"Can you not talk about food!" Murtaugh barked, before a hugh shadow passed overhead. Looking up, both men saw a massive creature flying towards the Hollywood freeway. "What the hell is that!"

"Looks like a snake!" Riggs said, aiming at the thing.

"Since when did snakes have wings!" Murtaugh snapped. "And that things looks like it has three heads!"

"I knew nuclear waste could cause mutations, but that's stretching things, don'tcha think?" Riggs said, firing off a shot.

"What the hell are you doing!" Murtaugh said, forcing Riggs' gun down. "Do you _really_ want that thing to notice us!"

"Relax, it missed anyway," Riggs said, holstering his weapon. "Right now, the better question is how we get down."

Murtaugh nodded, looking over the side to see more things than they could handle. They'd already completely surrounded the car, and were clawing at the side of the building. Then, one of them dropped. Then another, and another. Two dropped at the same time. In a matter of seconds, the entire horde was dropped. Looking at each other, they both looked to their left, to see a single figure walking down the street, two smoking pistols in hand, whistling merrily. "You both okay?" he said, ejecting the magazines. "Good thing I was here, huh?"

"You bet," Riggs said, jumping down from the roof. "Nice shooting. Where'd you train?"

"With the Canadian Army, actually," the man said, and Murtaugh saw the man was wearing a red and black one piece suit with white eye holes, covered in ammo pouches and carrying a rifle on his back. "Of course, _someone's _probably gonna have a problem with that!" he said, looking across the street at an empty store.

"No problem here," Riggs said, putting the ladder up for Murtaugh. "What's your name, pal?"

"Wade Wilson," he said, looking back at Riggs, "But most people call me…Jim…" Riggs and Murtaugh just gave a blank stare. "Okay, Deadpool, most people call me Deadpool! Jeez, doesn't anyone watch Mel Brooks?"

"Excuse us for a second," Murtaugh said, spinning Riggs around. "Okay, we gotta leave this guy!"

"I'm sorry, were you watching the same thing I was a second ago?" Riggs said. "Because I saw someone who just saved our asses!"

"He's also crazier than you," Murtaugh said. "And we both know how hard that must be!"

"I can hear both of you!" Deadpool said.

"Well then you know my concerns!" Murtaugh said. "I just want to-"

"Get back to your family, I know! Don't worry, you're one of the main characters, you'll survive, no problem." Both men stared at Deadpool again. "Hang on a second," Deadpool said, walking around a corner.

* * *

"Hey, flyboy, I know it's my schtick to break the fourth wall and everything, but can you try to tone it down? I don't think many of your readers know who I am."

_Are you really supposed to be talking to me in __**my**__ fanfic?_

"Would you rather I just walk out right now and get back to work for the movie?"

_Fine, fine! But the ones who do know your character are going to expect you do at least break the wall a __**little**__._

"Alright, I get it! Can we get back to the story now?"

_You're the one who brought it up! Now get back out there and stick to the story, or else I'll have the Warner siblings take your place!_

"Okay, okay! Don't have to go crazy here!"

* * *

Deadpool walked back around the corner and shook both men's hands. "Well, since we're all pretty much in the same boat, let's get you back to your family!"

"Great!" Riggs said. "First we gotta find a car, though."

"I already checked, there's nothing working anywhere near here," Deadpool said. "I think there's a car dealership on Sunset, wanna try for that?"

"Better than nothing," Riggs said. "C'mon Rog, your wife'll kill me we don't get you home in time."

Murtaugh just shook his head, following the two madmen as they chatted away about their respective weapons and adventures. "Lord help me, I'm gonna shot both of them before this is over!"

* * *

**Here he is ladies and gentlemen, the one and only _DEADPOOL!_**

**If you like having Deadpool here as a part of the story, please give a review.**

**"**Do it now, and I'll even throw in a Team Wade t-shirt!"

**Wilson, stop trying to advertise your movie in my fic.**

**"**Just trying to give the people what they want!"


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

"_We're five minutes out,_" the pilot said. "_Everyone get suited up and ready to go._"

"Suited up?" Val said. "Suited up how?"

"Parachutes," Burt said, as one of the agents went to the back and opened a compartment. "We're taking the express elevator down!"

"Express?" Earl said. "Burt, when you say 'express'-"

"I mean an 800 foot drop right in the middle of a golf course!" Burt said with a smile, the agents donning their chutes. "You heard when tee time is! Get ready!"

"Woah, Burt, let's just stay calm here!" Grady said, a little frightened. "None of us have any idea on how to do this!"

"It's simple," Burt said, a little bored. "Just wait ten seconds and pull the string. Let the chute open fully, and when you land, go on the ball of your feet, then to your calves, thigh, butt, and finally your arms. That simple."

"But don't you need training for this?" Val said, as one of the agents started putting a parachute on him. "Why are we jumping out of a perfectly good plane!"

"Because LAX is blocked off, and the Naval Station too." One of the agents took a phone off the wall and dialed in a number. "The only real way in or out of the city is either straight up or straight down!"

"So what about guns, huh, Burt?" Earl said, letting the agent help with his chute. "Knowing you, you've got enough to start another riot down there."

"No need to be crude now, gentlemen," Burt said. "I've got the Warbucks organization backing me, and by extension, you." He opened another compartment, and gave the men their pick of the weapons. "Your choice."

"I'll take the big one!" Val and Grady said at the same time, reaching for the SPAS-12. Both men looked at each other, then shot for it, Val winning. Smiling, he slung the weapon over his shoulder, grabbing the web belt with ammo as well. One of the Warbucks guards dug deeper into the cabinet and pulled out another SPAS-12 for Grady, the man's face breaking into a wide smile.

"Burt, I'll take something that's more useful and less flashy," Earl said. Burt nodded and handed him an M4 carbine.

"Very well," the agent said, hanging up the phone. "The blackhawks are on their way now, they should arrive in an hour and a half."

"Good," the lead agent said. "We should be near the drop area now. Everyone strap in, pilot's going to dive very soon." He was right. As soon as they were all strapped in, the plane went into a steep dive, Grady, Val and Earl gripping their seats like their lives depended on it. A few seconds later, the pilot's voice came over the intercom.

"_Altitude 800 feet. Anyone who's getting out, line up at the door._"

Unstrapping themselves, Grady, Val and Earl lined up at the door they came in from, only to see the agents and Burt at the back by the bathroom door. "Uh, I don't think that's the right door, boys," Earl said.

"We jump outta there, we'll slam dead into the wings," Burt said. "Trust me, this way's a lot safer." Then, a metal pole came out of the ceiling, and the agents attached their lines to it. "You'd best hook up too, boys, before you miss you chance."

Feeling around, the men couldn't find what they were supposed to hook up, and one of the agents had to help. "Remember," she said. "If you can't open your main, pull the red lollipop! That should open your spare!"

"And what if that doesn't open?" Grady said. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened to reveal a ramp, opened to the sky.

"Then make peace with whatever God you want!" the agent said with a laugh, hooking up behind the three.

"_Nearing drop zone. Standby,_" the pilot said.

"Up in the mornin', bout quarter to six!" the agent that helped the men said. "Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip!" The other agents repeated the jody, smiling. "Mission top secret destination unknown, don't even know if we're ever goin' home!"

"Burt!" Val said, yelling over the rushing wind. "Are you sure these guys are sane?"

"No," Burt said. "But they're some of the best out there! Let's just go for the ride!"

"_Jump in five,_"

"And if my main don't open wide, I got a reserve by my side!"

"_Four,_"

"And if that one should fail my too!"

"_Three,_"

"Well look out ground, I'm coming through!"

"_Two, one, jump._"

The agents ran onto the ramp, jumping out of the plane with yells and screams. Burt jumped without a word, while Burt, Val and Earl were practically pushed out screaming in terror, as the woman behind them let out a loud "WAHOOO!"

"I'm gonna get you for this, Burt!" Earl yelled, as the chute's bellow him blossomed open. "You hear me-_HUURK!_" he said, as his own chute opened. A few minutes later, they landed around the Ninth hole of the Harding Golf Course. Grady, sadly, had landed in an evergreen tree.

"HELP! ANYONE WANNA GET ME DOWN!"

"Yeah, just hang on," the female agent said, climbing the tree.

"Be careful, sir," another female agent said.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that!" the agent said, deftly climbing the tree, as the others gathered their parachutes. Reaching Grady, she flipped out a multi-tool. "Now, grab a branch and hang on!" Quickly, she sliced through the lines holding Grady to the top branches, as he held on for dear life. The last few lines cut, he sighed with relief as the branch in his hand held firm. Then a snap, and the branch he was laying on broke, sending Grady tumbling through the tree, bouncing off branches until he hit the ground with a "thump".

"It's quite fortunate you landed where you did, sir," the second female agent said. "Any other tree and you would have sustained serious injuries on the fall down."

"Yeah, _real_ lucky," Grady said, hefting himself up. "Thanks for the drop."

"Not a problem," the agent said, practically leaping down and taking off her baklava. "Names Patty," she said, sticking out her hand. "C'mon, you should loosen up."

"Not yet," the lead agent said. "We have to find a vehicle first for all of us," he said, motioning to himself and the five other agents. "There's a home improvement store nearby with some trucks we can use. Everyone get your things together and we'll move."

Picking up his shotgun and belt, Grady fell in with the others, and in no time they were on their way across the course, towards the I-5.

"Any word from the LAPD?" Patty asked.

"They've backed the cordon further back into Beverly Hills," Burt said. "If we're lucky the mountains will keep them back from spreading further."

"Hang on, what about the Army?" Val said. "I mean they've gotta have some people working to help, right?"

"You have any idea how large LA really is?" Burt said. "They've got enough problems trying to make a big enough cordon. Until they get their act together, we're pretty much the city's only hope."

"Well, we're screwed," Earl said. "So where's our first stop?"

"First we gather as many police as we can, then set up a rescue area," the leader said. "Once we get the truck, we'll contact any law enforcement we can and order them to meet up at Dodgers stadium if they can make it."

"Is that really gonna work?" Burt said. "Besides, we've still got that giant UFO up there to worry about."

"Wait, UFO?" Grady said. "You never said anything about UFOs, Burt, what the hell is it!"

"We don't know yet," Burt said. "But it's moving much slower than even a propeller plane."

"What's it look like, Burt?" Val said, looking to his right.

"Slim, undulating, low to the ground," the leader said. "Though there are no reports of attacks."

"Is that it?" Val said, pointing to the sky. Turning, the group saw a massive shape, loosing what looked like bolts of lightning at the earth.

"Goddamn, it's going to town on Venice beach!" the leader said.

"Well we aren't doing any good here," Burt said. "C'mon, let's get to that store."

Crossing the freeway and water basin, they crossed the area, hearing the distant fires and sirens, but had yet to see any ghouls. "So where are these things, Burt," Earl said. "You said these things were everywhere."

"They're predators, Earl," Burt said. "They follow the prey they hunt. If there aren't any around here, it means the prey is somewhere else."

"It was before," Val said, looking over a car that had run into a telephone pole. "What are these things, exactly?"

"Reanimates," Marcy said. "Finding the vampire that did this will be difficult. Until we find where the attacks started from, we're only able to gather the local authorities and gather as many survivors as we can."

"Great," Val said, as they crossed under a railroad bridge. After a few minutes more of silence, they came to the store, breaking the glass and scouting the inside.

"Alright, let's look for the rental counter and managers office," the lead agent said. Spreading through the front of the store, the team quickly found the keys for the rental trucks. "Alright, Patty, Marcie, you both clear out what's inside the back. Mr. Valentine, Mr. Basset, you take the men and gather up as many blow torches and electric saws you can find. Mr. Gummer, you and your partner go and search for some sheet metal."

"You've done your homework," Burt said with a smile. "C'mon Grady, we've got to move!"

"Wait, why're we getting all this stuff again?" Val asked.

"Don't you remember, knucklehead," Earl said, punching Val in the shoulder. "Armored transport, the bulldozer! Those things can't get in, we shoot them from the edge! Now c'mon, genius, before the nice government people decide to shoot us!"

In about a half hour, work was well under way for the truck, two of the agents slicing through the top left of the truck, as Patty and Marcie checked the cables that were ready to pull the top off like a can being opened. Val and Earl cut the sheet metal to fit the back of the truck, as Grady readied a rivet gun to stick the sheet to the rear. Burt and the leader were going over a map of the city.

"It's a straight shot from 5 to 110," the lead agent said. "I'll contact the Glendale police, but I doubt they'd be able to really help us, especially considering how deserted the streets are."

"So that just leaves us with what's left of the LAPD. Have your bosses managed to get in contact with them?" Burt asked.

"Parker Center's dead. The group that did this hit both police HQs in both cities." The leader looked at Burt. "They want us out so they can do God knows what in England."

"We're just the sideshow," Burt said. "I'll give'em respect for how they did it, I'll say that."

"Respect later, planning now. The blackhawks should be on their way now, once we know they're in the city limits, we'll make our move."

* * *

Inside the small shop, Det. Leon Orcot paced like a caged animal, ready to pounce on anything that looked at him funny. D just sat there calmy, drinking his tea, somehow immune to the panic that had overtaken the city. By sheer chance, Leon had managed to convince D to let a few people in the shop, but they were all Chinese, and all had bought pets from the shop. Meanwhile, his brother was God only knew where, with some freak animal that D had somehow managed to let loose. The entire LAPD was overrun, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. "D," he said, going over to the count. "You know what caused this, don't you? You've got some kind of hunch or suspicion, I'm willing to bet my salary on it!"

"Please, don't raise your voice, detective," D said serenely. "I have already told you, I haven't the faintest idea on what caused this. I have my suspicions, of course, but nothing concrete."

"Listen, D, people are dying out there, and unless you tell me what's happening, I'll YEEEOW!" he yelled. As he tried to pull his weapon, Tetsu bit him on the leg, causing Leon to hop around and shake his leg wildly, causing the other animals to caw and howl, almost laughing.

"Enough, everyone," D said, rising and patting his hands down. "Det. Orcot is right about one thing. Whoever did this is most certainly not interested in the well being of anyone, human or animal. But this is one occasion where the proper authorities must be allowed to do their jobs."

"What about him!" one of the younger men said. "This one isn't even out by the door! What's going to happen if those things come in here!"

"Would you like to see me go out like the Lone Ranger and get killed?" Orcot said, pulling Tetsu off at last and dropping him on the floor. "Those things are tougher than any junkie to take down. One officer is not going to make a difference, like it or not."

"So why aren't you calling for help!" a woman cried. "What about the rest of the police!"

"They're swamped," Orcot said. "Everyone I called is either in the same situation in as I am, or running for the nearest roadblocks." He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. "Unless you all want to run out there and risk getting eaten, then I suggest we all stop complaining."

"Mr. Orcot is quite right, everyone," D said, sitting back down and taking his cup in hand. "Until then, I assure you that I have more than enough food for everyone."

"Great, I'm starved," Orcot said, as D went over to a silver trolley covered in a sheet. Leon and the others gathered round, only to see D reveal a tray of animal food.

"But…what about the rest of us?" Leon said, the others just staring in shock.

"What, I said food, didn't I?" D said, genuinely confused, as the pets went to eat.

* * *

The line of police advanced slowly but steadily down the avenue, the bursts of gunfire mixed in with the jets of light from the Ghostbusters' proton packs, with the odd launch from Winston's rocket launcher. The number of ghouls was still small that far from Times Square, but the amount of panicked civilians was overwhelming. Despite the leapfrog motion the ambulance and van were making, the cries for help, for news, for some word on family or friends, was almost too much for the Ghostbusters and police. One of the cars kept blaring over its loudspeaker. "_ALL CIVILIANS ARE TO HALT AT THE LINE FOR A SCREENING BEFORE PROCEEDING TO SAFETY._"

"You know what this'll go down as, right?" Ray said. "The biggest disaster in American history."

"World history," Egon said. "I was checking the Internet before we suited up. Europe and Japan are under attack as well, possibly by the same forces that caused this."

"Think we can charge even more for a worldwide incident?" Venkman said, firing into a small crowd of ghouls. "Because if we can, I say we ask about three thousand per head."

"Be a little more serious, Venkman!" the police sergeant said. "How can you even think to joke at a time like this!"

"We're doing this out of charity, Venkman, nothing else," Ray said, firing at another ghoul. "All the research these things will give is going to pay for itself in time."

"_Hey guys,_" the ambulance driver said over the radio. "_We're getting a few people with bites here, you've gotta do a better screening!_"

"No guarantees," Ray said. "They're literally running past us before we can stop them. Do you need another man back there to help?"

"_Wouldn't mind…wait, ah Christ, we've got another one!_" the driver said, and the sounds of gunfire came over the radio.

"What, what's happening!" Ray said. The line looked back in the distance, seeing the flashing lights of the ambulance. The vehicle started rocking, and seconds later went back to normal. "Guys, what happened! Come in!"

"_We're fine,_" the driver said, panting. "_Thank God for fireaxes. Your officer ran out of ammo. Now we need someone new to get over here._"

"On it," the sergeant said, pointing to one of the men and calling the line to a halt. "How's the organization going?"

"_Right now they're all still getting over what's happening, but we've already gotten a dozen or so who'll stay with the van when we leap forward._"

"Got it. We'll call you when we move again. Hey Spengler," he yelled. "We're pretty close to city hall, you want some of my guys to go and see if anyone's there?"

"Absolutely not," Egon said firmly. "We're making a decent time. At this rate we should arrive next to city hall in less than twenty minutes. You just keep trying to contact them."

"You say so," the sergeant said, pressing on his radio again. While he took care of trying to contact any city officials, Ray called back to the station.

"Janine, what's the word from the Coast Guard?"

"_They're still holding, Ray,_" she said. "_The officer in charge said that the situation on Staten Island's been taken care of, they're just waiting for someone to get a move on up north. They say those things have already made it past West 125__th__._"

"We won't be able to make it that fast," Ray said nervously. "Sergeant, any word from city hall?"

"Got a few people holed up in it," the sergeant said. "They're gonna try and hold out for us, but they say it'll take some doing."

"Then we'll have to go a little faster," Winston said. "_ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!_" he said, going into his command voice. "_WE'RE NOT STOPPING THE LINE ANYMORE! WE'RE HEADING STRAIGHT TO CITY HALL! NO STOPPING UNTIL THEN! EVERYONE UNDERSTAND!_"

"Yes, sir!" the police said, the cars slowly rolling forward, as the officers stopped ever few feet to let a shot off.

"Ray," Peter said, looking off to the side. "Tell me, how many miles of subway run under the island?"

"Over 700," Ray said, firing at another ghoul. "I've already thought of that, Peter, and it's not going to happen. The blockades have already thought of that, they're blocking the tunnels outside the island now."

"That's great and all, Ray," Peter said, patting him on the shoulder. "But what happens when they come out of the subway tunnels behind us?"

"They could keep attacking for days," Ray said with a gasp. "Well what do we do, stop at every subway tunnel and wait for them to come to us?"

"We already have a plan in place, Ray," Egon said. "The grimory said that once we kill the vampire that started this, the ghouls under him would immediately die off."

"Then we'd better get moving," Peter said. "I don't want to see what happens when a vampire eats too much Thai."

The glares the police gave Venkman were venomous enough to kill a timber rattler.

* * *

Back in St. Pats, O'Conner was about finished getting as much information out of Mahon as he could. "So killing these things is only the beginning?" he said.

"Precisely," Mahon said, as Raju kept preaching in the background. "It's a bastardized vampire, and so these are bastardized ghouls. The enemy really knew what they were doing, that's for certain. No new vampires formed from the panic, and the city overwhelmed before anything could be done."

"But what about those reserves you called?" O'Conner asked. "You said they were on the way, right?"

"They should be more than halfway up the Jersey turnpike," the priest said. "Once they arrive, they'll lead the way onto the island and track down what did this."

"You mean who-"

"I mean what," Mahon said sternly. "This thing is no longer human. You're only concern is to kill them, and spare as many souls from damnation as you can. You can't arrest this monster, or contain it, no matter how much you want."

"Certainly sounds easier than a bunch of mistrials," O'Conner said, knowing the sarcasm wouldn't be lost. "So what about now? Can't we put some of those black suits on the roof and start picking a few of those things off, at least? It will at least give those people something better than just listening to a hymn."

"He's actually reading from the Gospel of John," Mahon said, oblivious. "We could put men on the roof, but I'd have to clear it with Mnsg. Raju."

"Uh, kid, in case you haven't noticed, we're in a _little_ bit of a situation here, and we don't have the time to go through channels!"

"But isn't that part of your procedure?" Mahon said. "Right now, the monsignor is the leading official of both the Church and of Iscariot, and what he says right now is as good as a message from his holiness himself!"

"Right now his holiness probably isn't up to his ass in zombies!" O'Conner said. Then he noticed the church had gone silent, and footsteps were rapidly approaching. Looking towards the front, he saw Raju walking rapidly towards him and Mahon. "You heard every word, didn't you."

"I did," Raju said in his serene manner. "I respect your want to fight against these things, officer, but I'm afraid those untrained by Iscariot do not have the knowledge needed to combat such forces."

"Then give us a freaking hint!" O'Conner said. "Didn't take too much thinking to figure out these things could be done in with a shot to the head, did it?"

"But these ghouls also can use firearms," Raju replied. "What if one of the men were hit? Then we would lose not only a man, but a firearm as well, one that could be given to another to carry on the fight."

"Well then what!" O'Conner said, slamming his fist on the table. "You've done nothing but preach, and that's all well and good for a Sunday school, but right now we need a _little_ more than prayer to get through this-"

"Do not speak in such a way!" Raju said, now channeling the same presence that the nuns had used on O'Conner when he was found telling a particularly offensive joke in school. It still had the same effect. "Prayer is the act of speaking with God Almighty! Communicating with he who gives the blind sight, who helps the deaf hear! He who is both bountiful in wrath and mercy!"

"So where was he when I was growing up?" Carter said, walking over from his place. "I saw my brother die in a turf war. I saw my daddy hooked on smack. It was all my mother could do to keep him away. I prayed, Lord knows I prayed." Carter took a step forward. "But where was he when my daddy finally took too much? I didn't hear his voice when my older brother was being put six feet under! When my momma cried at night, I was the one there comforting her, not God!"

"What religion are you?" Raju asked.

"What does that have to-"

"What religion are you!"

"Baptist!" Carter said. In one fluid motion, Raju smacked his pistol across Carter's face, sending the man to the ground, O'Conner stepping between them.

"The hell was that!" he screamed, the men at the door starting to look over. "You hit him because he wasn't _Catholic?_"

"He's a heretic," Raju said. "And while such circumstances force me to take them in, I will not tolerate one lecturing me on belief. We will wait until the Sons and Hibernians arrive, officer, before exiting this Church, and not before." With that, he went back to the crowds in the pews, smiling and comforting them.

"Gotti's gonna be jealous when he hears about this," O'Conner said. "C'mon, man, let's get you up. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"The hell do I care, just get me to a damn doctor," Carter said, O'Conner patting his friend gently on the back. "I heard a bit from City Hall. They said the Ghostbusters are moving slow up Broadway. Any luck, they'll be here in two hours."

"Excellent," O'Conner said. "Anything else?"

"Nah, static washed it out." Carter sat on the floor. That's pretty much all I could find."

"It'll have to do," O'Conner said. "But we've gotta figure out how to keep that guy from going completely nuts on us."

"Well you can count those black suits in," Vincenzo said, apparently switching off with another group of men. "They said Iscariot just goes after groups who make a move first, you know, 'self-defense' and all that. Seeing the boss go smack happy is a little new for them."

"Wonder what'd happen if they ever ran into Shmira," O'Conner said, before his eyes went wide. "When he said that religions were involved with this, did he say Jews?"

Carter and Vincenzo suddenly realized just what Shmira might really have been, and felt their jaws drop.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Brooklyn Battery tunnel, a hundred man plus force of the Shmira and Shomrim gathered, differences forgotten in the face of such high stakes. The cordon surrounding the tunnel, however, was slightly harder to get through.

"You have to understand, gentlemen," said the detective in charge over his megaphone, probably showing the largest case of bravery in the face of over a hundred armed and ready Jews, all dressed in tactical gear, wearing Kevlar helmets, as he and the other dozen officers stood ready behind their cars. "This is now a federal matter. If you want to fortify your neighborhoods," he said, not even noting what he was saying. "Then fine, but leave this to professionals."

"We've been fighting darkness for centuries," an aged Jew said. "Before you were feeding from your mother, I was hiding out from Nazis!"

"This isn't related to any Neo-Nazi group as far as we can tell!" the detective said. "Please, we're readying to move in now, just stay patient!"

"We'd like to," said the old Jew. "But I don't think they would listen."

Suddenly, the police heard a rhythmic stomping of feet. Looking over the armed crowd, the police saw a uniform mass of six large bodies. The Jews parted, and the men were clear in the streetlights.

Their faces were permanently scowling, their eyes literally unmoving. They stormed forward, leaving bits of dirt and soil behind them. Their bodies were large, and their hands the size of a TV set.

Golems.

One of the officers, panicked, fired a shot at the automatons. The bullet hit, but the thing just kept walking on, oblivious to the bullet sticking into its left arm. The officers just backed into the tunnel, as the golems pushed the barricade apart and led the way into the tunnels. As they did, the detective saw orthodox Jews dressed in the same combat gear as the reformed. "Wait, a second!" he said. "Why are you going! I thought you guys didn't fight!"

"In fighting against men, of course," said a rabbi. "But in fighting against the enemies of God?" he said with a smile. "Don't worry, boy, we'll be back before the sun comes up."

As the two patrols walked into the tunnels, the police just stood on the street, looking on in shock.

"You think they got the message, rabbi?" Ben Finneman said.

"If they didn't, they belong in one of Mel's movies," Rabbi Spielmann said. "Now, c'mon, we've got to get moving. Knowing Iscariot, they've probably run through half the island right now."

The men marched through the tunnels, seeing the abandoned cars and scattered belongings. A few scattered bloodstains littered the tunnel, but it wasn't until they were fully underwater did they encounter their first ghouls. The golems stormed forward, stomping over cars and debris. The ghouls dully looked over and swarmed the six golems, who made fast work of their foes. Heads were literally flying through the air, smashed, crushed, and made into slime.

"So those Catholic teams are on their way up the turnpike, yeah?" Finneman said, as the two groups waited behind the golems.

"That's what I've heard," Spielmann said, taking out a cigarette. "Any luck, they're on the Holland tunnel now."

* * *

The rabbi was half right in his assessment. The A.O.H. and S.O.I. were indeed at the entrance to the Holland tunnel, but NJ State police had sealed it off as well, and neither group had any help in the form of ready-made creatures.

"For the last time, lay down your weapons and lay down on the ground, hands above your head!" one of the troopers cried, as Harris and DeFilipo tried to convince the police they were trying to cross to help.

"For Christ's sake, we're here to help!" Harris said. "Just let us through and we'll have this problem wrapped up in an hour!"

"Can't do that," the trooper said firmly. "Now put those weapons down and get on the ground!"

"He's not listening, George," DiFilipo said. "Wanna play along?"

"I say we go for the more interesting method," Harris said with a smile. Scowling, he turned and started yelling at DiFilipo. "You stupid bastard, you always make the wrong move!"

"Well excuse me for trying to keep things together!" DiFilipo said. "Trying to get up to New York, to help, and you just wanted to sit back and fortify! What good's that gonna do now!"

"Not like they're letting us through now, is it!" Harris said, getting closer to DiFilipo's face. "What now, fearless leader!"

"How bout I drown your ass in the Hudson!" DiFilipo said, getting in Harris' face. By now their men were out of their vehicles, coming close and forming a half circle, the cops just watching and waiting.

"You pasta slurping wop!" Harris yelled.

"Drunk ass paddy!" DiFilipo said, both men swinging at each other, both groups diving into a brawl. Some of the state troopers went forward, trying to pull the men apart, but were dragged in themselves. The rest of the police ran forward, pulling at the group, trying to get their buddies out, to find themselves pepper sprayed and tasered. One cop was slammed between two punches of a Hibernian and a Son. One officer was flipped upside down, landing on his back and knocked out by an elbow. In minutes the barricade team was out cold.

"Grab the handcuffs!" DiFilipo said, the men grabbing the metal and shoving the police into their own cars and clearing the roadblock. Pushing the cars out of the way, the APCs rolled through, and the cars repositioned, the keys to the handcuffs placed within reach of the officers. The APCs had to be abandoned, though, when wrecks numbered to close to push past. Filing out, the men used flexible cameras to see through the wrecks before climbing over, not willing to risk unnecessary bites. When a ghoul was spotted, they were lured out and eliminated. If they couldn't be lured out, they were torched by those A.O.H. members carrying flamethrowers.

"We're getting radio calls from the Coast Guard," Sean said to Harris. "They say the ghouls are moving up into Harlem. Gangs are doing a poor job of holding them back."

"Then we don't have much time at all," Harris said.

"They also said that in Brooklyn, a group of armed Jews pushed past a police barricade and went straight into the Brooklyn Battery tunnel."

"Oh Christ, they couldn't wait?" DiFilipo said, shaking his head. "Wonderful, just wonderful. We've gotta get up there before the priests at St. Pats really go to town on them."

"First we've gotta get through all this," Harris said. "They said the Ghostbusters are already moving up, we should meet up with them in the SoHo neighborhood, we'll move on from there."

"Eh, that might not be so easy, boss," Sean said, aiming down the tunnel. Already, men were firing down the tunnel at the squirming ghouls that heard or smelled the oncoming force. A few of the cars were already on fire from the flamethrowers. "Hey, careful with those, we've got a lot of gas in here!"

"Explosives?" Harris said.

"You want to get a taste of the Hudson that bad, go ahead and jump in," DiFilipo said. "I'm fine nice and dry."

"We should've chosen the Lincoln tunnel," Harris said. "We could'a just walked on through."

"Too late now," DiFilipo said. "Besides, clearing out these tunnels is just as important. Let's clear'em out before we head on up." As Harris nodded, DiFilipo grabbed his radio. "All vehicles, u-turn and cross over the George Washington. If bridge is impassible, commander a ferry. If no ferries can be found, just wait until the authorities start making their push."

"_Roger that, moving now._" The vans backed out and away, leaving the men to move through the tunnels on their own.

"Twenty says we get to the other side in an hour," Harris said.

"I'll take that," DiFilipo said. "I'll say under an hour."

* * *

**Chapter 7 up, come an' get it! And in return, I ask simply for...**

**Reviews! (Broadway musical numer)**

**Too much?**

Deadpool: Why not just tie them to a chair and force them to write reviews for your stories?

**Because I don't write Golden Girls slashfics.**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

"Herr Major," Schrodinger said. "I'm bored waiting for Alucard. Can I please see what else is happening?"

"Schrodinger, you know that you are essential to Herr Major's plan!" Doc said. "We can't afford to let you run around over the world!"

"It's fine, Doctor," the Major said. "We still have time before Alucard is truly ready to be taken out. Let the boy go off and have fun!"

Doctor frowned, but nodded. "But remember to stay on the zeppelin!"

"Jawhol, herr Doctor!" Schrodinger said, popping to the back of the zeppelin, where he wouldn't get in anyone's way, as he traveled around to where the Major's plan was in effect. First stop, Mildenhall Royal Air Force base. "Hallo? Is anyone there?"

* * *

"Ah, there you are, lad," the FREAK said. "Glad to know I wasn't forgotten."

"There you are, Herr Walton," Schro said, looking over the once elderly RAF officer. When Millenium had found Col. Harold Walton, he was a man past his prime, looking back on days of glory, both for himself and his nation, as he commanded a base that played the host to American forces. His thirst for glory was what drove him to become what he was now. "I'm here to check on your progress with the area."

"Splendidly!" Walton said, now looking like he was in his twenties. Brown, waved hair, firm body, and a face that was wrinkleless. A far cry from the man of nearly seventy that was once in command of the base. "Those damned Americans are under my command now, and they bloody well know it! Have them all lined up on the parade grounds."

"Are you going to move on the area soon?" Schro asked, getting bored.

"Within the hour, my fine lad," Walton said, slapping Schro on the back. "From there, we meet up with the forces in London, and the Empire will never again see the setting sun! Starting with those bloody Irish."

"Why do you English seem to hate those Irish so much?" Schro asked.

"When your royal family is the ruler of your people, one bows down, they don't go blowing up noble soldiers!" Walton said. "Tell your major not to worry. Once the royal family is transformed, the Empire will be one of his staunchest allies!"

"I'll make sure he knows," Schro said with his usual Cheshire grin. "Good luck, Herr Walton. We look forward to seeing your success." In a blink, Schro was looking over the the preparations in Newmarket. "You may want to make a move soon, though, it seems two Americans managed to escape."

Walton grunted. "Not to worry, lad," he said, as the ghouls under him marched forward in formation. "We'll show them what proper fighters do in combat."

* * *

Nodding, Schro disappeared to New York, glancing around at the various panics the Major had started. In Harlem, a few scattered weapons owners had finally gotten their acts together and were firin into the advancing mass of ghouls, along with the police that were still alive. Most of the corner stores were actually the safest shelters, their shutters and bars perfect for keeping the ghouls out, while those with weapons fired from the upper floors, but a few panicked civilians were little help anyway. It made Schro happy to see the work of the late Furher also being done, it made the Major's plan all the sweeter. Smiling, he jumped to Times Square, where Alahambra was watching from one of the very top of the Jumbotron.

"Ah, Schrodinger!" he said. "How does it look?"

"They're spreading all over the island," Schro said. "They'll cover it all by the time dawn breaks."

"By the time the sun comes up, they'll be inside the tunnels and basements," the Dandy said. "I'll be looking for a challenger, Warrant Officer, is there anything that I might actually have to worry about?"

"Hang on," Schro said, going to the very edge of the ghoul lines. "Oh my! It seems there's a group of police moving up Broadway! They're supported by…oh my!" he said, a second before Schros disappeared from the Jumbotron. Confused, Alhambra flew down to the ground and decided to walk among the buildings, seeking a real challenge. "_He can find me if he needs me anyway,_" he thought.

* * *

"Who are you!" Ray said. "As a duly appointed representative of the city, county and state of New York, I demand that you tell us who you are!"

"How on Earth did you trap me!" Schro said, sounding genuinely frightened. "Let me go! Let me go right now!"

"No can do!" Winston said. "Now tell us who you are, damnit, or I'm gonna have to rearrange a few limbs on you!" he said, hefting the launcher onto his shoulder.

"How am I still here!" Schro yelled. "Why aren't I able to move!"

"You've been trapped in a proton capture stream," Egon said. "Now we'll ask again. Tell what type of being you are, before we're forced to discover exactly what method works on you."

"_TELL ME WHY I CAN'T MOVE!_" Schro yelled, in full panic mode. "_I WANT TO MOVE AGAIN, DAMN YOU, LET ME GO!_"

"I don't think he can tell us much, Ray," Peter said. "Go ahead, Winston, you can make the necessary adjustments. Officers!" he yelled to the police. "Would you please move the vehicles back so they aren't damaged by the blast, that'd be great.

"_NO!_" Schro cried. "_I'VE NEVER BEEN TRAPPED BEFORE, I DON'T KNOW IF I'LL REALLY DIE!_"

"What do you mean, 'die'?" Peter said. "Are you having trouble crossing over?" he said mockingly. "I always find it best to try and think that you're making a move to a new school, given your age."

"He may not be fully dead, Peter," Egon said. "Those clothes, they aren't protoplasmic, and he seems to have feline ears," he said, pointing them out. "This isn't a ghost, a ghoul or the vampire. I think this is something entirely different."

"Um, guys, they're getting a little closer!" the sergeant said, pointing out that the ghouls weren't held back by the interrogation.

"Then let's just get to the bottom line," Winston said. "Tell us who did this, and we'll let the stream fall."

"Are you crazy!" Ray said. "This thing is something completely different from anything we've seen before! Imagine what it could tell us!"

"Hey, sometimes you've gotta make the right deal to get a job done, Ray!" Winston said. "Now tell us what we want to know and we'll let you go!"

Tears were streaming down Schro's face now. "Herr Major," he wailed. "Herr Major! He just wants war! That's all! War, war, all he wants is a mighty war!"

"Then tell him he's got a special space in hell!" Winston said, firing the SMAW. The street exploded, bits of road and concrete flying into the air and onto the line, with the few body parts that did survive.

"Winston, what were you thinking!" Ray yelled. "You just blew a valuable research tool to bits!" As he said that, a cat ear landed on the hood of Ecto-1.

"Didn't you see his armband, Ray?" Winston said. "That thing was a Nazi. Goddamn, who knews _Boys from Brazil_ was a documentary."

"No, the cloning experiments never really panned out," a jubilant voice said from atop the van. "We just settled on FREAKs instead."

"But we shot you with a missile!" one of the police said. "You…you're scattered all over the road!"

"Look again, _dumbkoff!_" Schro said. "I think I'll be leaving now, I never want to do that again!" Before Ray could fire the capture stream, the boy was gone again.

"You shouldn't have done that, Winston!" Ray screamed. "We could have used him to find out so much!"

"The thing was dangerous, Ray, we should have found a way to make him disappear!"

"He already did!"

"Both of you stop it!" Peter said. "Now look, that freak in the tiny shorts got one thing right! All this is, all of it, it's just a giant ball of fun to whoever did this!" He put some space between Ray and Winston. "But right now we've got a city in panic, and the only people who are actually doing anything about it are acting like they're from New Jersey!"

The police line was firing into the oncoming ghouls again, but a few spared a glance back at the arguing trio. There were no civilians coming to the lines anymore, it was a solid mass of the dead.

"Ray, when I was in the Corps, I saw a lot of things. And now that I'm with you boys, I've seen _more_ things! But seeing that!" he said, pointing up to the van's roof. "Was the weirdest damn thing I've ever seen, and I was not going to let it stay in my sight any longer! Even after seeing a giant marshmallow step on a church, after watching you get possessed by a damn picture, after seeing a cemetery literally come to life to try and kill all of us, a kid in shorts and with cat ears on his head finally made me break! What does that tell you, Ray!"

"Both of you focus!" Egon said. "The ghouls are still coming at us, and we need to make sure we can take them out!"

"We'll need more help," the sergeant said, looking to his right. "Those things are coming from all around us!"

Looking at the alleys and side streets, the Ghostbusters finally realized a fatal flaw in their plan. They didn't have anyone supporting their flanks.

"_FALL BACK!_" Winston commanded. "_FALL BACK FORTY YARDS AND HOLD!_"

* * *

Starting to get over his experience, Schro jumped to Washington, inside the meeting chambers for the Senate, to see Richard Morgan having his ghouls set up the cameras. "Herr Morgan! I see you're finishing the touches on your press conference!"

"You bet, kid!" he said. "Once I tell the people what we've got planned, things'll finally change for the better."

"And the football?" Schro asked.

"Ah, they destroyed the case when I made the break for it. Don't worry, though, I've got more than enough clues left to find the backup they have."

"Wunderbar!" Schro cried with glee. "Can we expect you to have it before morning?"

"Hell, in two hours, morning's gonna come pretty early," Morgan said with a smile.

* * *

Jumping again, Schro went to NORAD, where the FREAK was making short work of the base's security details. He decided to walk through the compound instead of jumping, though. It'd be interesting to see what kind of a fight the American military could put up, even if it was their _Luftwaffe_. Behind the blast doors was a wonderful scene, ghouls ripping chunks off their former comrades, staining the walls and floors with blood. Walking through the corridors, he saw small defensive points where the guards had tried to stand and fight, only to be brought down from where they least expected their foe to be. That, and the foe was in two places at once. Following the destruction, he found the FREAK facing down a group of security forces.

The men had put a light machine gun into position, firing continuously down the corridor, the shots ripping through the ghouls, actually keeping them back a fair distance. Then a shape materialized behind the gun team and ripped them apart. The guards with them tried to attack back hand-to-hand, despite the futility. One guard tried to slam the FREAK with the butt of his rifle, only to have the rifle ripped from his hands. Twirling it around, the FREAK slammed the butt into the stomach of it's owner, then picked the guard up and threw him into the ghouls. But even while he did this, the other guards kept attacking, slamming the butts of their weapons into the FREAK. It merely smiled, taking the two men's weapons and jamming them into each owner, and pulled the triggers. "What's the latest from the Major?" the FREAK asked, both in his voice and his "partners".

"The base is completely sealed off. By the time they get inside, the 'president' will be dead," Schro said. "I'm glad to see things are working out so well for you, Herr Pendrell. Or is it Herr Collins?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," the FREAK said. "You can just call us Agent now. I'm closing rapidly on the general in charge, but getting to the President will take me more time. The base commander is no slouch."

"I can tell," Schro said, looking over the bodies. "Silly _Luftwaffe_, actually thought they could take down a FREAK."

"Still, I can't afford to underestimate them," the FREAK said. "They've shown remarkable skill at adapting to this new threat. And despite the fact that this base should be merely a garrison facility." The FREAK started to rub his chin in both locations, making the security forces in corridor 3-B to look on in confusion, before opening fire again. "Excuse me, boy, but I have to get back to work. Tell the Major he'll be dead before morning." With that, Agent ran past the .50 caliber position to the next corner, leaving his ghouls to deal with the position.

* * *

Deciding to have a little fun with the current president, Schro jumped to Hastert's hiding place, making the security team jump, and the poor congressman try to back away through a steel wall. "So this is the leader of America now?" Schro said, poking the poor man, making him flinch. "And yet you overran the Furher back in forty-five? How far the mighty have fallen," he said with a grin.

"How'd you get in here!" Carter said.

"And where'd you get that stupid hat?" O'Neil said, looking at the boy's head. "It's way post Halloween, I know that."

"He is not human, O'Neil," Teal'c said. "But he is not alien, either. I believe he is one of those responsible for what is happening across the nation."

"Teal'c, this kid is barely even eighteen!" Daniel said. "I mean-is that a swastika?"

"Ja, it is," Schro said, pulling at his armband. "Took you long enough to realize."

"And it will not take us longer to figure out what to do," Teal'c said, taking out his P90 and blasting Schro's head into little bits.

"What the hell was that!" Hastert yelled. "Why on Earth did you do that!"

"He was a threat, sir," Teal'c said. "He appeared in the middle of the room, calling you a coward, despite the fact that you are, in fact, holding up quite adequately according to the situation."

"But we could have captured him, tried to get information from him!" Daniel said.

"I think we're all forgetting one critical thing," Carter said. "His body's gone!"

They all looked at the spot on the floor, the boy's body, even blood, disappeared. Hastert was a near wreck now, gripping his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"Maybe he went to Argentina?" O'Neil said.

* * *

Gen. Hammond was in the command room, the doors sealed and the security forces having their weapons trained on them for once and not the Stargate. "How far are they into the base?" he asked the tech sergeant.

"They've gotten down to sub-level 3," the sergeant said. "Security teams are…having trouble," he said, trying to keep calm. "Captain Holchek wants to know if they should hold their positions."

"What about the guards on the surface?" Hammond asked.

"They've gotten in contact with the forces from Fort Carson and Peterson, they're gonna try and breach the blast doors and send support inside."

"No!" Hammond said. "As much as we would all appreciate that, until they sent the all clear, no one is opening those blast doors!" Silence came over the control room. "Those…things are contained in this base, and I won't have one mistake jeopardize both the speaker and the country!"

"Yes, sir," the sergeant said, sending the order to the topside guards.

* * *

Finished with NORAD, Schro jumped to LA, where he walked the Hollywood strip, seeing the famous Grumman's Chinese theater. He made a little game, matching the feet of ghouls with the feet of the stars, though he had some trouble with John Wayne's block. At least until he found a little ghoul. "How could they practically worship someone with such little feet?" he thought aloud. Then, he was shot through the head multiple times. Blinking back into existence, he heard a car driving up the road, gunfire coming from it. In a second, he was next to the car, and saw two men, one of the roof and another leaning out the window, firing into the mass of ghouls with pinpoint accuracy. "Amazing!" he gasped. He only knew vampires with that kind of precision! To see humans doing the same thing was nothing short of awe inspiring, from a moving vehicle almost miraculous. Then the human on the roof shot Schro. "Got'im again!"

"Whoah, Rog, stop the car!" Riggs said. Blasting away at the ghouls who were closest, Riggs and Deadpool ran from the car, Deadpool shooting all the way. "Hey, buddy, I think he's dead by now."

"Trust me, I know Death, and this kid hasn't met her yet."

"Oh, Death's a woman?" Riggs said with a smile.

"The only woman who can surpass her is my Bea." As he spoke, Deadpool's eyes seemed to go off into the distance.

"I won't ask who you're talking about," Riggs said, as Rog left the car. "Hey Rog, we just shot this kid, right?"

"Yeah, that's right, we shot someone who was still alive!" Murtaugh screamed. "Of all the dumbass moves you could make, I suppose it was only a matter of time before you did this!"

"Then where'd he go?" Riggs said. Looking to the boy's body, Murtaugh saw it was gone.

"But-how-where did-who-WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"

"It's simple, _schwarzer_," said a voice from atop their car. Turning, the three saw the boy just standing there smiling. "It's the second act in-" He never finished, because Deadpool started shooting again. Dropping the empty magazines, he reloaded casually.

"Ugh, that guy is _so annoying!_ I just don't understand why the fangirls love him so much, he's not even human! At least I got Ryan Reynolds!"

"You just shot a _kid!_" Murtaugh screamed. "What the hell are you thinking!"

"He'll be fine," Deadpool said, pulling back the slides on his weapons. "Look at the roof again."

"He's right, Rog," Riggs said, shocked. "Look at the roof."

Turning, Murtaugh saw the body was gone. The blood, the bone, the brain, all vanished into thin air. Slowly, Murtaugh turned back to Deadpool and leveled his revolver. "Who are you, really," he said quietly. "You know what's going on here, don't you! You know everything that's going on! You're one of the people that did this!"

"I don't know a thing more than what I'm told," Deadpool said.

"By who, huh? The aliens in the spaceships?" Riggs said.

"No, that's two of the other subplots. I'm talking about what's going on here, now. And right now, if it wasn't for me, you two'd be arguing over who'd eat the other first. So I'd show a _little _more respect, alright?"

"He's gotta point there, Rog," Riggs said. "We'd still be up on that building it wasn't for him, I say we stick with him, see where he leads us."

"And what if that's a very painful death!" Murtaugh said.

"You heard him Rog, we're main characters, we won't die!" Riggs said with a smile.

"Oh, Christ, don't you dare tell me you believe him!"

"What, that we're characters in a story? Course not, this shit's too crazy to make up," Riggs said, searching for a cigarette. "But this guy's better than some of the guy's I served with in 'Nam, and they were better than me sometimes."

"You just like him cause he's crazier than you!" Murtaugh said, Deadpool chiming in with a cheery, "Guilty!"

"Rog, sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches, right? Well this is one punch the bad guys can't roll with at all!"

"Plus I can make you both a _mean_ batch of pancakes once this is over!" Deadpool said.

"Fine, fine! We'll keep with him! But the minute I see you do _one_ _thing_ that puts me in danger of not seeing my family again, I'll shoot you myself!"

"Don't see what good it'll do ya, but okay!" Deadpool said, climbing back onto the roof. "Now hit it! I know a good place where we can get some help!"

"Where in?" Riggs asked, reloading his own weapon.

"Chinatown! Quick, before they've decided that the civilians would be better as food!" Deadpool said, as Murtaugh did his best to throw Deadpool off the roof.

* * *

Finished with getting shot in the head, Schro jumped to Michelle, seeing her keeping a group of police tied up with her powers. "Hello, Michelle! What are you doing with these men? You're not _protecting _them, are you?"

"O-o-of course not!" she said, as the cops cursed.

"Let us go!" "Damnit, you're dead! You hear me? Dead!" "That kid's wearin' a swastika!" "What the hell?" "Nazi prick, you'll pay for this!" "Screw you!" Michelle quickly covered their mouths with her paper, though they continued to mumble.

"Still, I'm impressed with the work you've done," Schro said. "Power outages, fires, panicked crowds? You've done very well indeed! But make sure that you finish the job, ja?"

"D-don't worry," Michelle whimpered. "I'll…I'll make sure."

"Then start by killing these police," Schro said, still grinning.

"Right now?" Michelle said, shocked.

"What's wrong?" Schro asked. "Don't tell me you want to back out-"

"No!" Michelle said. Turning back to her paper, she slowly tightened it around the officers' mouths and noses, their eyes going wide as they realized what was happening. They wriggled and struggled, they even tried to chew through the paper. One or two tried to keep their muscles flexed, knowing that a person's body was bigger, and that later they might have the chance to escape. But they eventually all fell unconscious, their eyes dropping and their heads falling. "There, they're all dead!"

"No, they're not," Schro said. "Keep squeezing. After all, even though they seem dead, they're still capable of breathing. Squeeze them more, Michelle, and when I'm sure they're dead, then I'll leave."

Michelle winced, and closed her eyes as hard as she could, covering the men again, forcing the paper tighter and tighter around them for over five minutes, until she heard Schro chuckling. "_Wunderbar!_ Good job, my dear! I'll make sure to tell the Major of your fine work!" And in a blink, he was gone, remembering he wasn't finished telling Alhambra what to expect. Michelle just turned and ran down the street, crying for what she had done, begging the souls of the men for forgiveness.

* * *

Popping back in front of Alhambra, Schro smiled wide. "Sorry for the interruption, Dandy, I was a little tied up."

"I'll say," Alhambra said, annoyed. "Can you hurry up and tell me who's left, I still have a challenger to find."

"I'll check the cathedral," Timothy said, jumping to St. Patricks. However, he missed the raptors and landed instead in front of a trio of police officers.

"Woah!" O'Conner said, pulling his weapon. "Where the hell'd you come from, kid!"

"Look'it his arm!" Vincenzo said. "He's got a Goddamned swastika on the band!"

"You sure do like to shout, don't you," Schro said. "Where is the leader?"

"I am the leader," Raju said, walking towards Schro. "You are the representative of the ones who did this, are you not?"

"That's right," Schro said, only to be blown away by Raju.

"What the hell are you thinking!" Carter said. "We could've gotten some information out of him!"

"We cannot hold him," Raju said. "No one can. Look, you see? The body is gone."

Turning, O'Conner and the others saw the boy's body had disappeared.

"Forget the cathedral, Alhambra, you'd have a better chance just waltzing around the city, there's no one here worth your skill."

"That's a shame," Alhambra said. "You go back, Schro, I'll keep things going here."

"Of course," Schro said, jumping to the zeppelin again. "I'm back, Major! Things are going just as you predicted!"

"Excellent, Schrodinger. Now come over and watch! The real show here is about to begin!" he said with glee, watching the flames still spread over London.

* * *

The jet landed at Groom Lake Airbase, better known to the world as Area 51. Sen. Thurmond got off quickly, and was taken to a waiting humvee, where he was driven off to one of the hangars. Looking around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, and idly wondered what all the fuss was about. Then, the humvee stopped, and Thurmond attempted to exit, but the two security forces stayed in place. "Hey, what's-"

"Just be patient, sir," one said. "We're waiting to the safety bars to be raised."

Thurmond was about to ask what the man was talking about, when four bars rose out of the concrete square the humvee was on. Slowly, the square fell into the ground. Still, Thurmond was calm. Such things were common in research bases. A fallback to the years when a Russian invasion was still a plausible occurrence. In the level, he saw weapons stations, a garage, even a small mess area. Then the square went down a second level, and Thurmond felt his jaw drop.

This was massive, larger than the base presented to the world, divided into so many sections. Aircraft hangars, vehicle bays, weapons testing, even an aquatic area, and something called a "Walker Maintenance Bay".

"Don't worry, sir, we were all shocked when we first came here as well," the driver said, as the humvee came to a halt. "Trust me, this stuff is mild compared to what we'll get to show you when you're president." Opening the doors, Thurmond slowly got out, as a man walked towards the group. He was middle-aged, not old, still well in shape, hair high, tight and gray.

"Welcome to Area 51, Senator," he said, sticking his hand out. "I'm Col. Quaritch. If you'll just follow me, sir, I have a lot to brief you on."

"I should say so," Thurmond whispered, as Quaritch got inside the humvee, two of the security forces getting off.

"Right now, sir, you're in sublevel B-2. Here we store all materials on the waiting list for declassification within the next two decades," Quaritch said. "The walkers we're particularly proud of, they're set to come out in 2015, barring any kind of surprises."

"Walkers?" Thurmond said, confused.

"Yes sir, two legged combat vehicles. The armor of a tank with the mobility of an IFV." Quaritch turned to Thurmond. "But that's not even getting into the other things."

Thurmond just kept his eyes glued to the window, staring out in awe, while making sure his mouth was shut.

"Hey, I've got something," one of the airmen in the tower said, looking at the radar. "Looks like the staffers got here early."

"_Groom Lake, this is Columbia 3-5, request permission to land, over._"

"Roger, Columbia, change to bearing 1-5-2, you are cleared for landing."

The Learjet made a perfect landing, and the staff got off and was lead to a group of waiting humvees, and taken to another sublevel, only this one was a long hallway with a security desk with a desk and metal detector. Shocked that this was security at _the_ Area 51, they all went through, Secret Service first, followed by the three staffers. But when the second staffer tried to go through the metal detector, a siren went off, and two sheets of heavy clear plastic slammed down from the ceiling. "Hey, what's going on!" the staffer yelled, slamming on the plastic. "Seriously, what's going on here!"

"Ah, they really installed the microphones," one of the guards said, as the staff and Secret Service agents on both sides of the detector watched in shock. "Wonder how well the security system'll work."

"Security system?" one of the agents said. "What security system!"

"Just watch," the ranking guard said. "Here it comes."

Two small nozzles came out of the sides of the detector, but stopped. The guards started to fumble with their controls. "Are you sure this was the one?" "Yeah, I'm positive." "It's not working."

"Hey, c'mon, guys, it's me, Joel, remember!" the staffer said, close to panic. "If I were really gonna kill the old man, don't you think I would'a done it earlier? C'mon, this is all a mistake! It's probably just picking up the metal splint I got when I broke my leg!"

"So what's this metal bit in your neck then?" the guard at the monitor said. "Looks like some sort of chip."

"What chip!" Joel said, angered. "Let me out, damnit, there's been a mistake!"

"Ah, here's the problem," one of the guards said. Pressing a button, the nozzles extended fully, and two pilot lights came on. Joel started banging hurriedly on the glass, his eyes pleading for help. Then the fuel came out of the nozzles in a long jet.

Even with the microphones cut off, the sight was a terrifying one. Death by fire is a horrible way to go, and for a monster that can regenerate, the pain is always as fresh as the last douse. The clothes burned almost instantly, as Joel's body tried to reconstruct itself. The flames just kept pouring on despite it.

"So did you catch the game last night?" the ranking guard asked to the man at the controls.

"Lost fifty bucks on it," the man said with a scowl.

"That's what you get for betting on the Eagles!" the ranking guard said, as Joel used his very bones to try and break out of the plastic. "Against the Broncos at that!"

"Hey, I always go with the home team, especially when they're _my_ home team!"

"You're hopeless," the NCO said, as the flames kept coming. "So how long was this going to take again?"

"About a minute more," the guard said. "Don't worry, folks, we'll get you all back to your jobs in no time."

The staffers and two agents were in shock, watching as the fire simply cut off. The nozzles than became vacuums, taking the dust away to separate containment areas, which would later be bombarded with lethal radiation, then dumped out in the middle of the ocean. The slightly melted plastic was pulled back, and the warning klaxon stopped. "Alright," the NCO said. "Let's keep moving."

The staffers just stood as still as stone, staring at the space on the floor where their friend Joel was turned into ash. The guards literally had to push them through to finish the check. Finished, they had them meet with Sen. Thurmond. "Where's Joel?" he asked, seeing one missing from the pack.

"Did you flash him?" Quaritch asked.

"Affirmative, sir," the NCO said. "He had the chip in his neck."

"Flash him?" Thurmond asked, confused.

"Let's just say he won't be making any trouble, sir," Quaritch said. "Now, let's get you to the situation room. We should have news from the affected areas by now."

"Not before you tell me what happened to my staff!" Thurmond barked.

With an annoyed grunt, Quaritch turned to face Thurmond. "Sir, your staffer was with the enemy. Our security system detected their tell, and we eliminated him before he could cause any serious troubles."

"What are you talking about!" Thurmond said. "You mean you know who did this!"

"We didn't know they were going to attack us, if that's what you're wondering, sir," Quaritch said. "But we do have the information we need. If you'll just come with us, we can show you everything we have."

Uneasily, Thurmond and his staff followed Quaritch, as his men kept talking about the results of the latest NFL game. After trailing behind Quaritch and hearing the various workings of the base, they finally arrived at a small and unassuming board room. One of the guards opened the door, and Quaritch motioned inside, the staff and agents slowly and carefully stepping inside. Once they were all in, Quaritch shut the door quietly, and a projector and screen lowered from the ceiling, as the lights dimmed. "You all know that the United States is under attack," he said firmly, almost expecting someone to start questioning him. "What you don't know is from what." A video came on, a helmet cam from the perspective. It showed a group of soldiers moving through a warehouse, scanning the walls and catwalks. The soldiers moved slowly, weapons up, the whole thing looking bizarre without the sound to accompany it. Then, a movement caught the cameraman's eye to his right, on one of the catwalks. Swinging his weapon up, his light caught the leg of someone running into an office. Motioning to the other soldiers, the team swarmed up the stairs to the office. Pausing at the door of the office, the men threw in flashbang grenades. The flash filled the camera, and the men seemed to rush in. They quickly surrounded a human body on the floor, curled and shaking. Realizing there were others inside, it picked it's head up and hissed, baring it's teeth and claws It's face was stretched horribly across it's bones, and it's ears were formed into a point. The men opened fire, cutting it down. It tried to hiss again, but the men kept firing, one or two changing magazines to finish the job. Then the video ended. "That figure you just saw was responsible for killing at least two dozen people in Detroit, mainly homeless. But when I say no one on Earth deserves what these things do to a living human, I mean it."

"What was that thing!" one of the staffers said. "That…that was a joke right!"

"As much of a joke as your friend back there," Quaritch said, moving on. "Right now, New York, LA, and the Capitol are under attack, along with London, Rome and Tokyo, but those aren't important right now." The slide changed again. "If Ms. Warbucks plays her pieces accordingly, and all other independent variables play as anticipated, then we should be looking at full containment of the situation in no less than the next seven hours, nationwide."

"This is...a world event?" Thurmond said quietly. Quaritch nodded.

"It is, sir. The world is at war again."

Thurmond leaned back in his chair and looked at the table. It was finely polished, like the rifle he had been issued back when he went to war. He remembered the training, the transports, the fighting. The death. Now an enemy far worse than anything he had ever seen was coming after his country. "Who are they, Colonel?" he asked, his voice low.

"Nazis, Senator," Quaritch said. "We believe-"

"WHAT!" Thurmond said, leaping up and slamming his fist on the table. "What do you mean these are Nazis, Quaritch!"

"A few weeks ago, ships crossing the Atlantic spotted what appeared to be zeppelins crossing the Atlantic, odd enough on it's own. But a few captured the craft on their cameras a large symbol swastika. Certain agencies took the pictures before they could circulate, but when we calculated their paths, we found they came from South America. Honestly, we went through irregular channels, but we contacted the Brazilian and Argentinean governments to investigate. Right now, though, it really won't make much of a difference."

"So why did you do that to Joel!" one of the staffers said. "How did you know he was working with them! And why did you do _that_ do him!"

"He was changed," Quaritch said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small chip. "He had one of these in his body. We have a whole cabinet full of these, each one taken from a pile of ash like the one we just took care of." He put the chip on the table and slid it over to Thurmond. "It changes people into something much worse."

"What does it turn them into?" Thurmond asked, staring at the chip.

"Vampires."

"Sir!" Looking to the door, the group saw a tech sergeant run in. "NORAD is locked down, a FREAK managed to get inside before they could seal it off."

"A shame," Quaritch said. "But inform Ms. Warbucks Sen. Thurmond is secured and that threat has been neutralized."

"No it has not!" Thurmond said. "Colonel, I want you to gather up all of your technologies and show them to me immediately, we are at least in the position to aid both NORAD and Los Angeles!"

"Sir, believe me, I would like nothing more than to help out those areas, but I have my sitting orders; withhold all technologies that are not cleared for declassification until such a time is appointed. Those have been the standing orders of every president when they were informed about this base, and that hasn't changed yet."

"Well it looks like I'm gonna be the first to break that tradition," Thurmond said.

"Sir, with all due respect, you aren't the president-"

"Wrong, colonel!" Thurmond said. "Under the order of presidential succession, enacted when the current president is unable to carry out his duties for any reason, the vice president shall take power, followed by the Speaker of the House. Since the Speaker of the House is currently unable to carry out his duties due to emergency, the line of succession falls to the President Pro Tempore of the Senate! Right now, Colonel, I am the acting President of the United States! And my standing orders as of this moments are simple!" he said, pointing to his staffers to take what he was about to say down. "By the order of the Acting President, Strom Thurmond, all personnel currently stationed in Groom Lake Air Force Base are to immediately send whatever personnel and materials can be spared to those areas most in need in the continental United States during this crisis until the Acting President determines the crisis to be over!"

Quaritch nodded and turned to the tech sergeant. "Ready the Galaxies, have all Riesigs loaded for paradrop, I want the Rats moved and ready for transport to NORAD, make sure it's understood that they're to be sent in first and that all other forces are to wait until the Rats give the all-clear."

"Glad to see you understand," Thurmond said. But as he turned to go to his two staffers, Quaritch put his hand on Thurmond's shoulder. "Yes, colonel?"

"Sir, if you would follow me, I'd like to inform on some specifics." Motioning to the hall, Thurmond walked out, Quaritch following and shutting the door.

"So what do you need to explain-"

"Sir, you're right, you are technically the acting president," Quaritch said, standing at parade rest. "But I must tell you something very important. I deal in secrets, sir, and while I can agree that a massive secret has finally be revealed tonight, there are things that you must understand have to be kept in the dark. I'm doing this because I'm being ordered to, but realize that this must all be kept under control. Lines of communication will have to be manipulated, the media will have to be controlled, and if I _suggest_ that something is kept under wraps…"

Thurmond nodded. "I've dealt with black-ops situations before, Quaritch," he said. "Nothing on this level, of course, but I can assure you that I realize that certain things need to be kept beyond the public eye."

"I hope so," Quaritch said. "The last two men who tried to bring certain things to light wound up quite badly."

"You don't mean…" Thurmond said.

"It wasn't us, sir," Quaritch said, holding up a hand. "One of our 'alumni' was actually trying to prevent the shooting in Dallas."

"The grassy knoll?" Thurmond said, slapping his palm on his face.

"No sir, there was never anyone on the grassy knoll." He opened the door back to the conference room. "The man on the overpass however…"

The call went through the base, and the airmen leapt up in surprise that was quickly subdued by a sense of duty. Riesig walkers were loaded on to C-5 Galaxy transports to be paradropped into LA, while Sierra flight loaded up and readied for transport. The _Tunnel Rats_, known for their specialist training in the labyrinthine training areas of 51's underground gained them notoriety for using their advanced weapons in confined spaces. They were hurried onto a V-22 Osprey bound for NORAD. As the teams went out, Quaritch went to his office and dialed in a very specific number on his phone.

"_Quaritch?_" Anne said. "_Why are you calling? Something go wrong?_"

"Ma'am, in a manner of speaking, yes," he said. "I was just ordered to put Area 51 assets into combat. I decided that you could probably use the heads up."

"_Just as well,_" she said. "_The situation in LA seems to be more complicated than I thought. Riesigs?_"

"Yes ma'am, but the _Rats_ are being sent to NORAD-"

"_NORAD's under attack?_" Anne said. "_Damn…alright, I'll see what I can do. Excuse me, Quaritch, I've got something to take care of, contact me if anything happens._"

With that, Quaritch put the receiver back on it's cradle and walked back to the conference room. "What are your next orders, Mr. President?"

"Grab a cup of coffee, Quaritch," Thurmond said. "We're in for the longest night of our lives."

* * *

"Really? Quaritch? You're going for that now?"

**Yes, in my happy little world, I am, Wilson. And don't you have something to say to the readers?**

"Yeah, yeah, yesh, let me find the script..." *Rummaging around* "Aha! 'Flyboy254 would like it to be known that he wants to know what his readers are thinking, and since he's not a telepath, he relies on the reviews of people reading his stories. So be kind to the poor geek and get to hitting the review button already! Seriously, don't make me come after you!

**Okay, Deadpool, they get the point-**

"I mean this kid's balancing ROTC, college and getting ready to go to Comic Con, and you just go _right on by_ without giving you opinions on his story that you're clearly interested in if you're reading it!"

**Deadpool-**

"Here his is, at his computer, and you just go _reading the story without a single consideration of giving him constructive feedback-_ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz..."

*Putting down dart rifle* **And cue dreams about Bea Arthur wearing a chimichanga dress. You heard Deadpool, folks. We know you're reading, so how bout a review or two?**


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

"Alright, everyone get down!" Haggard said, running out of the Oval Office seconds before a massive blast ripped through the doors. The small group had taken as many explosives as they had and piled them beneath the windows, to at least try to break through, but nothing happened. The metal sheet hanging in front of the window was still as firm as before.

"Damnit!" Haggard said, kicking at one of the bodies. "Now what!"

"I say we go after the 'agents'," Mulder said. "If nothing else we can at least find out their purpose for being here."

"Agreed," Redford said. "And you'll be coming with us."

"No argument there," Agent Todd said. "I just hope we can all get out of here when this is done."

"So where'd those agents get to anyway?" Marlowe asked. "Shouldn't they be coming our way by now?"

"Maybe not," Mulder said. "I've heard reports from inside the White House that there's a secret situation room under the East Wing."

"There isn't," Todd said. "I've been to the East Wing plenty of times, there's no 'secret control room' anywhere under it."

"I bet you believed there was a lone gunman too," Mulder said. "Our government keeps secrets from us every day."

"He's always like this," Scully said. "The scary thing is he's almost right half the time."

"What do you mean right?" Agent Todd asked, confused.

"Don't ask, you'll only get more questions," Scully said, as the group walked towards the East Wing. "Sergeant, do you have any ideas on what to do?"

"Find those two and make'em talk," Redford said. "Simple as that."

"Elegantly simple, Sarge," Sweetwater said.

"And get them back to the press," Mulder added. "Those two know things that have probably been kept in the dark since before any of us was born, and they should stand trial for what they've done."

"You're talking about this like it's happened before," Todd said.

"You'd probably not believe what we've dealt with," Mulder said with a smile. "Voodoo, demons, cryptids," He turned to look Todd in the eye. "We've even had to face down bad writers." Agent Todd just stared at Mulder.

* * *

Meanwhile, Anne was trying to get into the White House systems to open the shutters, but every attempt was blocked not matter what. After her latest attempt, she let out a curse and nearly threw the pad out the window, barely managing to stop herself. Panting, she decided to contact Rally again. "Artemis, this is Hera, come in, over." Static filled the channel. "Artemis, this is Hera, please respond, over!" Another burst of static answered, and Anne finally threw the pad at the chopper door. Any other piece of tech would've been useless, but Anne had already made sure her things were good enough to be tossed, thrown and smashed, and still work on to the next job. Picking it back up, she told the pilot to try and land on the Ronald Reagan building. As the chopper set down, Anne threw the door open and leapt out to the roof, looking over at the White House, shuttered and secluded. Looking towards the command center, she saw the survivors being shown into a large tent, set up to provide some comfort for the civilians and more shaken agents, while the team that was sent in was brought to the HQ for debrief. Looking at her slate, she dialed in Agent Skinner. Almost immediately there was an answer.

"_Ms. Warbucks,_" Skinner said. "_What do you need?_"

"That soldier who was thrown out the window," she said. "I need him to give us a name on who threw him out that window."

"_Hold on,_" Skinner said, and a few seconds later, he answered. "_Her name is Todd, ma'am, she threw the corporal out the window before the shutters closed. He said she wasn't holding any devices or switches, he doesn't believe she locked it down._"

"I'll run a check," Anne said. "You focus on getting more information out of the survivors. I'll keep trying to contact the others inside." Hanging up, she tried to go back contacting Rally, when an urgent feed appeared. Bringing it up, she saw it was a broadcast live from the Capitol building on all channels and frequencies.

* * *

In the CNN building, Ted Turner himself was watching the proceedings as they carried on about the incident that had gone from coast to coast. Anchors hurriedly read reports from around the country, from riots in Philadelphia and Boston, to incidents involving violent religious cults nationwide. Then, one of the techs called him over. "Sir, we're getting a transmission from the Capitol building."

"Well get it on the air!" Turner said, the teleprompters hurriedly putting new information on for the anchors. In living rooms and on radios across the nation, the anchors suddenly shifted gears. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now getting a broadcast from the Capitol building in Washington, we're going live now." The scene suddenly changed to a man in a brown suit, sitting behind the seat of the President Pro Tempore.

"My fellow white Americans," Morgan said. "I come before you today a man on a righteous quest. We are currently undergoing a state of upheaval tonight, but not without reason."

"Who is this guy?" Turner said.

"Maybe the one who started all this?" one of the techs said.

"Then what's up with his teeth?" said another. "Those plastic fangs?"

"Are we recording?"

"Yes, Mr. Turner," said another tech.

* * *

Anne watched the broadcast from her own datapad, and frowned. If this went on any further it could cause the complete breakdown of any kind of order across the country. And white Americans? All she needed was a white supremacist calling for the extinction of anyone he got rejected from going to prom with.

"As you can tell, our so-called 'president' is dead," he said, as the camera panned down to show the body of the former Mr. Clinton. "But that should not stop us from carrying on. I have long believed-"

In Bucks county, Pennsylvania, a firefighter and his wife watched the broadcast incredulously, shaking their heads, their small children listening intently from their bedrooms, as the husband held his shotgun. "What an idiot," he whispered. "He doesn't even know what he's talking about!" the firefighter barked, as the man went off on a long train of conspiracies and evil doings.

"Change it to something else," his wife said. "Maybe there's another station trying to explain all this."

The husband nodded, changing to their local ABC channel, which was actually covering what was happening in New York.

* * *

Similar scenes were playing out across the country, normal Americans worried more about their friends and family in the affected areas than the ravings of a clear lunatic with fake fangs and a bad sense of humor. Instead, many of them tuned off their radios to other stations who weren't broadcasting the man, and if they couldn't find one, they called the stations, asking that they bring back information on New York or LA.

"Sir, we're getting tons of phone calls, they're all saying to go back to New York and LA," the station manager said. "Should we cut the feed?"

Anne was asking herself the very same question. However, before she could, she saw the feed was being cut from CNN's broadcast, going back to the newsroom.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, the feed has just suddenly cut out on us,_" the anchor said. "_We're currently trying to bring it back, until then we have a new update on the situation in New York_."

* * *

Morgan heard the noise from the broadcast room and leapt up from his seat to see that while he was still broadcasting, the news had cut away from his speech to show the situations in the rest of the country! "More Jews and communists," he said. "Those bastards! That's it, all of you, get moving! Get the whole city to follow our image! Don't kill any whites, just the mud people!"

The ghouls groaned, and made their way to the doors, shoving them open and swarming the few remaining guards who weren't following what was happening on the small TV they had set up in their main office. Quickly they moved to the Lincoln park area. Only they couldn't tell many of their victims apart, they were just food to the ghouls. But Morgan didn't know that, he was too busy fuming over the fact that no one had listened to him.

* * *

Mendez was busy looking over the barricade the police were putting up on the highway. It wasn't much, really, just a bunch of cars and a fuel tanker, but the town had a road flares in it's stores, and those would hopefully provide what Mendez was looking for when whoever did this came calling. The police and the town's workers were busy everywhere in the surrounding area, putting up sandbags, building barricades, and doing their best to hide the children and women that volunteered to look after them. Any building with a basement was used as a shelter, with as much food and water as could be put in with the people down there. Local farmers had been called and ordered to do the same, taking whatever weapons they had with them. A few lone civilians were monitoring the news and radio, two checking the internet, but nothing was turning up of any use.

"You really think this will work?" Locke said, watching his men put the tanker into position. "I can't believe a monster that can take out two RAF bases would be so easily destroyed by a trap of this type."

"I know it seems a little too caveman," Mendez said. "But you probably know KISS, right?"

"Of course," Locke said. "But what if it doesn't kill this thing?"

"Then we wait," Mendez said, pulling out a cigarette. "They'll probably start looking around for who did this. That leads them to our first position," he said, referencing their first defensive position where the A1304 met the B1506. Lighting the cigarette, he took a deep breath and exhaled. "If we can take out enough of them, we stand a decent chance of holding out for the rest of the night." Mendez took another drag. "You sure that doc can help Figgins?"

"He may not have much experience with traumas like this, but he can certainly help your friend until we can get him to a more experienced counselor." Of course, what Locke didn't mention was the fact that the counselor was barely out of university. Still, some help for the poor man was better than none. As it was, Locke thought for a minute on the man, Figgins. The poor bastard barely seemed like a man, a quivering mess of camo and skin. Whatever he'd seen at the base, it was eating into him.

"_Sir, we've just got a broadcast from London!_" Locke's radio squawked. "_I'm putting it on now!_"

As Mendez called the men over, Locke heard the transmission come through, broken, but still understandable.

"_This is Lord Admi…Penwood in…aval headquarters, broadcasting on all frequencies. If anyone at the Home Office can hear this…a shot to the head…heart with a silver…or…ly water…not like we have any of…in stock…can be eliminated…explosives. These are your methods. These…are your orders:_"

"_Resist._" Then…

"_**Your worthless…ase put up…fight…all for nothing…**_" said a german accented voice.

"_You're even more worthless than I am…you haven't figured…room…bombs…not magic bullets…they bounce…_" Then, a single gunshot, and the connection was cut. By now the men were all huddled together, staring at the radio and each other. Mendez was at a loss for words, but Locke was thankfully a man who had lived through much darker times.

"Well, come on now! A member of the nobility just gave us all an order!" he barked. "You men start working on that barricade now! Push those cars into better position, a man could easily get through those holes!"

The men gave a cheer and rushed to work, Mendez going to join them. He may not have given much credence to the ideas of nobles and titles, but he'd be damned if he let such badass last words go to waste.

* * *

Rally stalked through the tunnels, taking out the few ghouls that remained. The whole thing was a dead zone, distant gunshots and groans coming from every direction. Bloody footsteps led in all directions, and spent casings lined the floor. There was no radio reception there, so no hope of calling anyone for help if things went south. Then again, just the two of them transformed into ghouls…

"_Don't think that way, Rally,_" she told herself. "_Just find who you were looking for!_" She turned to her partner. "May, any ideas on what to do once we find this thing?"

"I thought Anne gave you what we needed to take this thing down!" May said, looking to her rear. "We all know you can kill anything with just one bullet!"

"But these things aren't hyped up on kerasene or angel dust," Rally said, as they moved through the tunnel. "We both know they're not susceptible to pain or even a single shot to the head. The only way we're going to take them out is being better, Minnie. And if whoever did this finds us…" She stopped talking, trying to think of what to say next. "Like I said, May, just get something ready."

"Uh Rally," May said. "I don't have any explosives, remember?"

Rally felt her jaw drop. "_You idiot!_" she thought. "_Nothing can possibly make this wor-_"

"Don't move!" Agent Mulder said, pointing his gun at the agents, Scully and the others bringing up the rear. "Weapons on the ground, hands on your head!"

"Don't do this, Agent Mulder," Rally said, as she and Minnie slowly put their weapons on the floor. "You don't have any idea what's happening here."

"But you can tell us, can't you?" Mulder growled. "You know exactly what's happening here!"

"We know you think we're in on a lot of things, Mulder," Rally said, as she and Minnie got on their knees and put their hands in the air. "But we're just here for this incident. We already told you we're part of the Secret Service."

"The hell you are!" said a female voice. "I've only been in a few years, but I know both of you would never pass the screening tests they put in place for agents!"

"Added to the fact that the one on the right's too short, and we've basically got everything we need to know," Redford said. "Now why don't you tell us who you really work for."

"We're US government agents," May said, as calmly as she could manage. "We're on the same mission as you, trying to find the person that did this."

"How do you know it's just one guy, huh?" Sweetwater said, as he and Haggard walked up casually to the scene. "For all we know, it's a whole group of people."

"Maybe you can find out by putting a virus into the DoD network," May said with a snicker.

"That was a simple accident!" Sweetwater shouted. "I was only making a simple security check!"

"I thought you said you were putting it out on purpose," Haggard said.

"Enough about who did what!" Redford barked. "And you two," he said, pointing to Rally and May. "I think we need a little more good information about what we're up against."

"Why, you've already shown you're all more than capable of taking down any threats we've encountered."

"That's not going to cut it later," Mulder said. "And I keep losing the evidence I need to reveal the truth! Now tell us so we actually have some evidence!"

"Do you really think this is the time for an investigation!" Rally shouted. "The nation is under attack right now, and you're busy asking about some stupid conspiracy crap!"

"I've searched all my life for the truth!" Mulder yelled. "I deserve to know after all me and Scully have been through!"

"Mulder, get a hold of yourself!" Scully yelled. "She's right, we can worry about the truth later!"

"Do you really believe that Scully!" Mulder said. "After all they've done! My sister! What they've done to you! To your daughter! Don't you think we deserve the truth!"

"You really think the truth is the best thing Agent Mulder!" Rally said. "What if the truth is the worst thing possible!"

"Shut up!" Mulder yelled, pressing his weapon against Rally's head.

"You really think you can threaten me, Mulder-"

"I swear if you say you've watched president's die I'll pull the trigger!" Mulder yelled. "Now tell me what I want to know!"

"Stand down Mulder," Redford said. "She might be telling the truth after all!"

"You don't know a thing about the truth!" Mulder yelled. "What do you know about having one of the most important things in your life covered up like it was just trash!"

"What if she's right!" Redford barked. "What if the truth really isn't what you want to know!"

Tears were starting to form on the edges of Mulder's eyes. His hand developed a slight tremble. "She's a part of this," he said. "All the people who've helped me have died, all my family! And for what!" he yelled. "What's so damn important about the truth that you have to hide it from the people if hits the most!"

"Because it could hit everyone else harder," Rally said calmly.

With a scream, Mulder pulled the gun up and fired down the corridor, screaming in rage. In frustration. In sorrow. "_Why won't anyone tell me the truth!_" he yelled, still pulling the trigger even after he emptied the clip.

"Okay, I don't know you guys," Todd said. "But I get the feeling I'd be safer if I'd gone with your squad."

"Now you know how I feel when I took that bet," Marlowe said. Then he looked to his rear. "Uh guys, I know we're all having a moment, but I think something's coming."

"Tell it to wait," Sweetwater said, sniffing. "I need a minute."

"Me too," Haggard said, pulling out a handkerchief. "I know how he feels."

"You do?" Agent Todd asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Haggard sniffed. "I still don't know what combination I used for my biggest boom, and CID never told me!"

"I hope you're finished," Rally said quietly, getting up. "Because your theatrics just gave our position away. So reload, now," she said, picking up her weapon. "Because the welcoming committee's come by to say hello."

Pulling themselves up, the group formed two lines, back to back. The ghouls came slowly, in ones and twos. Rally noted these ones were carrying weapons and wearing uniforms, and that meant the FREAK had destroyed the security system. "Fire for the head!" she barked, firing at the closest ghoul. The others joined in earnest, the pop of Scully and Todd's pistols mixing with the loud cracks from Redford and Marlowe's M16s, as Sweetwater kept a steady tempo with his SAW. The ghouls tried to fire back, but their aim was poor, their master unable to guide them in his rage. Brain and bone littered the corridor, the group making clean, disciplined shots to the head. Shot from Rally and Haggard peppered the area, as shells clanked to the floor. Mulder was finally back to normal, raising his weapon and firing again, though his aim was off from his outburst. Agent Todd was also a little unnerved, but she made her shots as best she could, and in a few minutes, the ghouls were downed, Rally, May and the soldiers making sure with a good double tap in every head.

"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully said, going to her partner's side. "I don't think I've ever seen you get so worked up."

"They have it Scully," Mulder said. "They know the things I want, and they won't tell me." He started tapping the butt of his gun against his leg. "Am I crazy for wanting to know?" he said, giving a small smile.

"No," Scully said, patting Mulder on his arm. "You're just like the rest of us."

"Mulder?" Looking up, the pair saw Rally standing in front of them. "I've read your files, I understand that you have questions. But I promise, once we're done here, I'll make sure to tell you everything I can." May just gave her partner a look of "_You really mean that?_"

"I'll hold you to it," Mulder said. "Or else I'll sic my best guys on you."

"And who would those be?" May said, almost bored.

"The Lone Gunmen," Mulder laughed, Scully shaking her head, as the group walked down the corridor.

* * *

**Chapter nine, chapter nine! It's published just in time!**

**I'm going to Comic Con! But I'll be back before too long!**

**I can't rhyme very well you see!**

He'll keep this up if he doesn't get reviews, folks, so please, think of the characters he's working with!

**Wilson, you made a "Duck Amok" parody.**

Yeah, but it was actually _funny!_

**Folks, while I deal with Wilson here, why not give me a review? Now c'mere! ***Various sounds of violence*


	11. Chapter J

Chapter J

* * *

As the Ghostbusters slowly made their way past city hall, reinforced with police and civilians ready to join the fight, they heard a strange noise to their left. Looking over, they saw an unbelievable sight.

Thousands of people were marching through the streets, a bright mass of red, green and orange, carrying hockey sticks, baseball bats, anything they could find, riding atop whatever vehicles were at their disposal. One was even wearing a mascot's costume…The Philly Phanatic.

"What the hell is going on here!" Winston said in disbelief. "Am I hallucinating?"

"I doubt it," Ray said. "What are you all doing!" he yelled into a bullhorn he had been given. "This area is dangerous! Please leave immediately!"

"Screw you!" the leader of the mob said, a man completely covered in Phillies gear. "They're interrupting the post season, and we're pissed off! So if you guys aren't going to take care of this, we'll do it ourselves!"

"What are you, crazy!" Ray screamed. "Those things are dangerous in hand to hand!"

"Oh yeah? They've never had to walk West Philly at night!" the man screamed, the crowd roaring in unison, running into the mob of ghouls.

The melee was incredible, a mass of green, red and orange slamming into a tidal wave of gray and blue. The sound of a bat slamming into a skull mixed well with the slapping of a hockey stick against a temple. Phillie's announcer Harry Kalas narrated.

"_And the Philly fans take off into the mass of ghouls, as the Philadelphia Phillies game against the New York Mets was preempted by the attacks, and it's already a well hit game, as the Philly fans take to the New York streets._" For those watching at home, a camera zoomed in on a Philly fan swinging away at one of the monsters. "_And here's the hit! A clean slam, right into the left side temple! That was a well hit monster!_" Meanwhile, pitcher Paul Byrd was slinging balls into the enemy, slapping them back as the fans moved in for the kill. Donovan McNabb called out plays for the linebackers, as the Eagles slammed into the ghouls, as Mark "The Recchin Ball" Recchi led the Flyers into fistfights against the horde. The Phanatic was running around on his 4x4, punching ghouls in the head with his fist and distracting them with his gag tongue, as the mob advanced forward. A few 76ers fans were mixed in, but for the most part unnoticed.

"Did everyone else just see that?" Venkman asked, completely deadpan. "Okay, just making sure."

"Peter, a group of sports teams and their fans just appeared from nowhere claiming they were fighting because they interrupted the Phillie's post season!" Ray shouted.

"And I can believe that!" Peter said. "I think Mets fans would do the same thing if this happened and they were in the post-season!"

So it went, through the streets of New York, Philadelphia fans beating and breaking through the ghouls, the Ghostbusters and police awed by the sheer raw fury the fans had at their team being interrupted. The smack of bats against skulls and linebackers plowing through ghouls like they were paper was a sight to behold, until, finally, they found the vampire responsible.

"What the hell?" Alhambra said, turning his attention away from the smell of adrenaline. "Who are you people!"

"We're pissed off!" the fans said in unison, setting on the Dandy man. They beat him down with bats, they pelted his face with baseballs. The Eagles buried him in a tackle. He tried his best to bring his cards against them, but the sheer number and anger of the fans couldn't be denied from their revenge, and he soon found himself being lifted over the crowd.

"Where do you think you're taking me!" he yelled. "Put me down!"

"Not likely," McNabb said. "We've got a special punishment in store for you."

"Like what? Staking? Holy water? Ha! You-"

"Worse," McNabb said with an evil grin. "We're taking you to Jersey."

Alhambra's screaming could be heard all the way to St. Pats, as he was carried to the state line.

* * *

"What's the progress of the enemy through the corridors?" Hammond asked the control teams.

"They're barely making a dent, sir, we can't hold off this many attackers-Sir, the Stargate is coming online!"

Shocked, Hammond looked to see the Stargate open with it's usual burst, and as the teams trained their weapons on it, out walked…a short, bald man. "Greetings, I…am _Togar!_"

Hammond felt his chin on the floor, finally gathering his senses. "You're…the same Togar that…"

"The same!" he said, walking down the ramp. "I discovered your planet was in danger! I rushed here as fast as I could! Forgive my lateness."

"Sir, any help you can give would be welcomed," Hammond said. "Are you-"

"No, we cannot have pie!" Togar said, seemingly to thin air, and answering Hammond's question at the same time. Urgo was back.

"I recommend you met with SG-1, Togar, I'll have my men take you," he said, two of the guards leading Togar to SG-1's room.

"Who's the tenor?" O'Neil asked, as Togar strode into the room.

"Greetings, Colonel," Togar said. "I…am _Togar!_"

Silence. "Should we…know you from somewhere?" O'Neil said.

"Wait…he's the one who implanted Urgo into our heads!" Sam said. "And after that…"

"Your memories were wiped," Togar said. "I…" he looked to his right, seemingly listening to someone. "I suppose," he said, reaching into his robes and pulling out what looked like small earpieces. "Place these in your ear canals, and you shall see."

"How do we know this won't hurt us?" Jackson asked.

"Or put Urgo back in forever," O'Neil said.

"I promise you, this is only a temporary measure," Togar said. "He has been pestering me endlessly to see you all again."

"It can't hurt," Sam said, putting the device in her right ear, and gasping with surprise. "Urgo!"

Quickly, the others put their pieces in, seeing Urgo hugging Sam.

"Hehehe!" he laughed. "I'm back! I mean I'm back to see you all ahahahaha!" O'Neil and the others just stared, unable to believe that Urgo was in their lives again. "Oh, and you're all here!"

"What's going on!" Hastert said. "Who are you all talking to!"

"Um, Togar," Jackson said, looking at Hastert's panic. "You wouldn't happen to have more, would you?"

"Of course," Togar said, pulling out another device. Taking it, Jackson offered it to the congressman, who nearly hit the ceiling when he put it in.

"Where did he come from!" he yelled. "Who are those people, really!"

"Later, sir, really," O'Neil said. "Togar, you're here to help, right?" Togar nodded sagely. "Okay, here's what we do. We run out, start shooting and-"

"I have a better way, O'Neil," Togar said, taking out what looked like a child's toy, similar to a "ray gun" from a convenience store. "This device, when aimed at a sentient subject, will implant the device into their minds."

"You mean they'll be forced to interact with Urgo?" O'Neil said, Togar nodding again.

"Then let us wait no longer," Teal'c said. "We will take you to the enemy."

Running through the corridors, Urgo going on and on and _on_ about how glad he was to be back and able to have pie again, they met up with a group of men running from corridor 3-B.

"They're right behind us, sir!" the airman said, as two more carried a third to the infirmary. "I don't know what you've got planned, but it'd better be good!"

"Just get to the infirmary and hold," O'Neil said, as Teal'c and Sam got into position in case things didn't work out. But Togar just stood in place, Urgo looking around excitedly.

"He is here," Togar said, pointing his "weapon" at an empty patch of air.

"Where?" Daniel said. "I don't see anything!"

"He can possibly change his appearance to match his surroundings," Teal'c said. "I have faced many opponents of a similar nature."

"Indeed," Togar said. "It has the ability to bend light around itself, effectively rendering it invisible to the visible spectrum."

"Basically bad man goes predator," Sam said to O'Neil.

"I know what it meant!" the Colonel shot back, Sam backing down, while Togar fired a blue beam of light at the monster, who appeared finally.

"What did you put in my head!" he yelled. "And who are you! You're not Air Force!"

"Oh my," Urgo said, sounding almost disgusted. "He's not like you all," he said, pointing at the others. "I mean, you're all nice and happy and, you, heh, _alive!_ And he's…_woof!_"

"What are you talking about!" Agent said. "Who are you!"

With that, Urgo disappeared in a flash, popping back into existence in front of Agent. "Oh…he's very angry right now! And…oh my!" Urgo said, seconds before Agent tried to bite into him, and failed. "Hey! That is _not nice!_"

"What is this!" Agent yelled. "Some kind of nerve agent!"

"Well, if by nerve agent, you mean he gets _on_ your nerves…" O'Neil whispered.

"That is very rude!" Urgo said. "What happened to all the fun we had before!"

"You almost made this planet remove us all from it's service and put us in great danger of being placed into mental care," Teal'c said monotone, as the vampire tried to gather it's senses. "Given the circumstances, I would consider us quite justified in our problems with your attitude."

"Aw, but I _missied_ you, big guy!" Urgo said, before hearing a loud growl from behind. "Oh…hello…" he said, waving his fingers. "Has anyone ever told you that your teeth are just…hehe…well…_pointy?_"

"_Enough!_" Agent said, as his other body kept rushing through the defenses in it's area. Without a second thought, he dug his hand into his scalp, pushing and pushing, straight into the brain.

"Oh my!" Urgo said, as SG-1 watched in shock, or, in the case of Teal'c and Togar, mild interest. "I don't think you should do that-"

"_SHUT UP!_"

"Okay!" Urgo said shakily. "But don't blame me for what happens next!"

Grunting, Agent made one final push into his head and smiled, pulling out the implant, along with half of his brain, making his victory rather short lived, as Teal'c opened fire, along with the rest of SG-1, doing away with Agent's second body. His first body froze where it was, writhing in pain for a second before growling angrily and launching back at the security forces. At least, until Togar showed up and used the same "ray gun" again. This time, though, Agent was a little more prepared. He dodged the beam of blue light, and thought he could slam straight into the fat little man and grab a quick bite. Then Teal'c stood in his way, grabbing Agent by the neck. "We do not need your services for this, Urgo," Teal'c said. "I shall handle this alone."

"The…hell are you!" Agent said, realizing that Teal'c was more than he appeared. "You're…not human!"

"And you are no longer sentient," Teal'c said, crushing Agent's throat.

"Oh!" Urgo said, wincing. "That looked like it hurt!"

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "His vertebrae was actually quite ordinary."

"That wasn't the _point!_" Urgo said, as SG-1 hurried back to Hastert, Urgo talking all. The. Way.

* * *

"Hehehehe!" Deadpool said, laughing. "Oh man, that's always a good episode!" he said.

"What are you talking about!" Murtaugh yelled, as he drove towards Chinatown.

"Never mind," Pool said, raising his guns. "We're about to get company."

"What company!" Murtaugh yelled, before hearing something in the wind over the moans.

"Deadpool was right," a calm and leathery voice said from nowhere. "The odd trio was certainly about to get company. Only the two detectives, unable to see what Deadpool could, had no idea what they were about to uncover."

Turning a corner to get closer to the voice, Riggs and Murtaugh felt their jaws drop at the sight before them. There, on a car in the middle of the road, was Robin Williams, doing his stand-up, actually making the monsters _laugh!_ On another car, Morgan Freeman stood, _narrating_, the ghouls watching like they were in a trance.

"The three stopped and stared in disbelief," Freeman said, his voice somehow audible across the distance. "With all that was happening, I couldn't blame them. However, it was true. I, Morgan Freeman, was narrating, using my calming voice to occupy the monsters, as Robin did his best material to handle the others."

"Ah, like the singin' o' the angels themselves!" Deadpool said, putting on a faux Irish accent. "Seriously, he's gonna be big in the future."

"Even with Deadpool's jokes, I still needed help from others," Freeman said. "And even narrating as I was, I was not capable of taking care of the mass of monsters in front of me. I could only _keep them occupied _as the trio _took care of them!_" Freeman said, looking over at the three. Deadpool nodded, firing into the ghouls, unable to attack because of Freeman's soothing voice.

"And I can't believe it either!" Williams said. "Either it was a convention of Michael Jackson look-alikes or hell finally had enough of Hollywood! '**I've had enough!**'" Williams said, using a demonic voice. "**No more Lethal Weapon sequels, I've had it!**' I think what hell has forgotten is that, in a short time, the Internet will be filled with stories that even Satan would say, '**Jesus! Spock and Kirk as **_**weasels!**_" he said, the monsters laughing at his wild antics. "**And they do **_**what**_** with each other! No, that's it, special place in hell for that author…there's **_**more!**_** Next you're going to tell me Morgan Freeman's narrating across the street from Robin Williams during a zombie outbreak, you f***!**" The ghouls laughed along, until the trio finally put a stop to it all.

"Thank you for saving us," Freeman said, shaking the men's hands. "We were both starting to lose our voices."

"Not a problem," Deadpool said. "Big fan of both of you. Say, can I get an autograph?"

"We don't have time!" Murtaugh said, seeing Deadpool seemingly pull a pen and paper out of nowhere.

"Ugh, hope these are sanitary," Williams said, as Freeman signed his name.

"So what now?" Riggs said as he reloaded. As he asked, a tank burst through one of the stores nearby, the hatch popping open, as Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone, and Arnold Schwarzenegger came out, blasting away at the ghouls that were coming their way, as Bruce Willis jumped of a nearby ceiling with a firehose wrapped around his waist, shooting his way down. Chuck Norris broke through a store window and started roundhouse kicking the undead, while Bruce Campbell made cordwood out of them, as Mr. T and Hulk Hoagan threw them into the pavement headfirst.

"What the hell are we breathing!" Murtaugh said, as Riggs laughed as he joined in.

"What Det. Murtaugh failed to realize in all the madness was that he was, in fact, not experiencing any of it. But that would be revealed soon enough-"

"Would you shut up," Murtaugh said, burying his head in his hands.

* * *

In Newmarket, the preparations for the defense were almost complete, when Mendez saw what looked like a blue phone booth on the freeway. "What the hell is that!" he said, pointing to it. The workers stopped, and their jaws dropped on seeing it.

"My Lord," one of the men finally said loud enough for Mendez to hear. "He's really real!"

"Who!" Mendez said, as the door to the box opened, and a man in a suit and tie walked out, a black woman in a red coat following.

"Oh my word," he said, looking around. "Quite a mess we've stumbled onto, haven't we?" the man said.

"You never 'stumble', Doctor, you arrive just when you're needed," the woman said, looking around. "My God, we're in Newmarket!"

"Stop where you are! Hands on the ground, hands where I can see them!" Mendez said, pointing his weapon at the pair, the Doctor looking at Mendez oddly. "Now!"

"Um, are you American?" the Doctor said. "Oh my, this really is serious."

"Mendez, it's alright," Locke said. "He's on our side."

"I don't even know if there's a side anymore!" Mendez said, still aiming at the two. Martha was slowly doing as Mendez ordered, but the Doctor just smiled, walking up to the barricade.

"Doctor, I wouldn't do this!" Martha yelled. "He's an American, and he's armed! Right now the stereotype is in full effect!"

"Oh come now, Martha!" the Doctor said cheerfully. "If he were going to shoot us, he would've done so by now, right?" he said, looking over at Mendez, who, while still keeping his weapon raised and ready, was starting to waver. "See? Now, you please stay with the TARDIS. I'll go have a chat with whoever's caused this mess." With that, the man walked off down the freeway, whistling as he went.

Finally dropping his weapon, Mendez started cursing. "Who was that!" he yelled.

"The Doctor," Locke answered.

"No, what's his name!"

"That is his name!"

"That's whose name?"

"Yes!"

Mendez cursed and turned to the woman. "You! What's that guy's name!"

"The Doctor!"

"Yes, what's his name!"

"That is his name!"

"What's his name!"

"The Doctor!" the workmen shouted.

In California, Deadpool cheerfully yelled, "Third base!"

Whistling his favorite song, the Doctor finally saw what he was looking for. A massive army marching towards him, a rather pale man at the front. "Excuse me!" he yelled. "Are you the one that's causing all this?"

"I am," Walton said. "And I'm sorry to say, but you're currently in my way, and my forces have a rather insatiable appetite, so I'd advise you to kindly remove yourself from my path so we can transform you later."

"Well, I'm 'fraid I can't do that," the Doctor said, rocking back and forth on his feet, smile plastered across his face. "I rather like the way I am, after all."

"Suit yourself," Walton said, snapping his fingers. A small group of the ghouls marched forward, moaning as they went. The Doctor simply stopped rocking and started counting, Walton looking on, confused. "_What's he waiting for,_" he thought. "_He's got something planned? But what?_" he thought, looking around the deserted highway. "_Are there snipers nearby?_" he thought, ducking to the ground. "_Explosives? What is it!_"

Meanwhile, the Doctor was finished. "Oh, come now," he said, almost disappointed. "Hardly a threatening number, don't you think? I mean you've got all this!" he said, motioning emphatically to the mass of ghouls. "And you'll only use this?" he said, moving his finger in a circle above the ghouls coming at him. "Not very threatening," he said, almost disappointed.

"Conservation of force, young man," Walton said, staying down just in case, mentally ordering his ghouls to stop. "Now tell me what you have planned, and I just might not let them have at you."

"Planned?" the Doctor asked. "I don't know what you mean."

Walton slowly got angry. "Don't play, boy," he growled. "Where are your allies!"

"Oh, you mean the men working on the barricade?" he said, pointing his thumb behind his back. "Ah, they're still back there! After all, it takes a lot of work to stop a force this big!"

"Do tell…" Walton said with a grin, ordering his force to move forward. "Can you tell me anything more about all this?"

"Just that these things of yours are woefully inadequate at dealing with what you are going up against," the Doctor said, running from the oncoming enemy.

"Get him!" Walton ordered, the ghouls raising their weapons and firing. Nearly all the shots missed. Growling, he ordered his forces forward.

"The dead are coming, the dead are coming!" the Doctor said, screaming frantically, laughing a little. "Oh my, I never thought I'd see those again!"

"You've seen those things before!" Mendez said, grabbing the Doctor by the lapels. "Spill, damint, how do we kill'em!"

"Oh, you've already done a fine job here!" the Doctor said, looking at the barricade and gas tanker. "But a few adjustments couldn't hurt."

As Walton and his small army moved on the barricade, he laughed. "This is the best they can-" He paused, sniffing the air, and laughing again. "A _trap?_" Walton laughed. "Far too simple! After all, what's the point when I can just clear the sides?" Waving his hands, he ordered the ghouls to jump the sides of the highway, into the grass on the sides, where they splashed into an ankle deep well of gasoline. Before Walton could order them out in time, two flares were lit in the sky, and dropped into the gas, torching half of Walton's army in an instant. Staring in shock, Walton looked up to see a blue police box flying through the air. "No…_NO!_" he yelled, as the Doctor smiled at his work, as Mendez and Martha looked on.

"This…this guy's an alien?" Mendez said quietly. "But…he's a-"

"Human?" Martha said, smiling. "I know. It's complicated, but don't worry. Someday it'll all be answered."

"Not before we're done here," the Doctor said seriously. In his vision, he saw what looked like a nine year old boy, struggling vainly in the fire as his dead body burned. "I'll go and have a talk with the 'commander'. Moving the TARDIS low, he landed it in front of Walton, stepping out, a sudden wind flapping his trench coat around his legs. "You'll have to answer for what you've done," he said, pointing at the former man.

"You're really him…" Walton said shakily. "But…you're not him…who are you!"

"I'm the Doctor," he said. As he walked up, Walton fell to his knees, nearly ready to shake himself apart. "Now it's time you paid up for what you've done."

"Not likely," Walton said, leaping at the Doctor's throat and biting deep. In the distance, the Doctor heard Martha's screams and Mendez firing his rifle into the ghouls. Then, Walton gagged, and backed off. "What is this!" he choked, holding his hand at his throat. "What have you done!"

"A simple trick among many creatures with bi-cardial systems," he said flatly. "I merely stopped the flow of one and replaced the blood with another fluid." He looked down as Walton collapsed. "In this case, a rather deadly and painful poison to die from." He took a small vial out from his pocket. "Unless you have the antidote." Before Walton could say a word, the Doctor threw the vial on the ground, smashing it under his heel. "Lethal to all carbon-based life, which you still are." Walton couldn't talk now, he just kept wheezing in vain. "And your army looks like it's about used up." Sparing a glance, Walton saw that, indeed, he had not ordered his ghouls to stop from jumping over the highway and into the pit. With one last look, Walton died again, as his body turned into a bubbling mass on the pavement. Finished, the Doctor walked back to the TARDIS, as the police and other volunteers looked on in shock. This was clearly not the Doctor they knew. "We're done here, Martha," he said. "You…" he said, pointing at Mendez. "Your friend won't be any good here…I can take him somewhere he can forget about all of this. All I need is your permission."

Mendez turned to Locke. "Is he…"

"Telling the truth?" Locke finished. He nodded his head. "Yes. He may not be human, but he doesn't lie."

"Alright," Locke said. "Just…make sure he's happy, okay?"

"Of course," the Doctor said. "Let's go, Martha." And like that, the pair were gone. As they left, Mendez fell to his own knees and hands and started weeping silently. "So long, Figs," he said, as the fires burned into the night.

* * *

"Fourth platoon, fortify _Le Arc De Triomphe_ and await further orders!" Madeline yelled into her radio, and she and the other members of _La Ligue Sainte_ took what scant cover they could against the person firing from atop _La Tour Eiffel_ at whatever they wanted. With all the problems in the world, they had decided to attack her city. "Not while I'm still breathing" she thought, quieting back down as another shot bounced off her cover, an overturned delivery truck. "What are they using, a Barrett?"

"No ma'am!" one of her men yelled. "We tried to get into the tower's security system, but the cameras were all taken out!"

"_Magnifique,_" Madeline said. Then, a small sedan pulled up, a blue bubble light atop. Stopping at her cover, a man got out, grey haired, with a neatly trimmed mustache, wearing a gendarmerie's uniform!

"_Inspecteur Jacques Clouseau, gendarme,_ third class!" he said, opening his badge holder. As he did, the badge flew through the air and into Madeline's arm, causing her to yelp wince in pain. "Oh…"

"Never mind," Madeline said, pulling the badge out and throwing it back into Clouseau's holder. "What do you think you're doing!"

"I'm here to arrest that man!" he answered, pointing to the top of the tower. "Firing a _weapon_ in a public environment like this is inexcusable!"

"What!" Madeline said. "Are you crazy? You're liable to get yourself killed!"

"I doubt it," said another man, slinking towards Madeline. "Gilbert Ponton," he said, giving a quick salute. "I don't quite know who you all are, but you're more qualified to handle this than anyone."

"So what's _he_ thinking!" Madeline said, as another shot ran through the night.

"He thinks he knows how to handle the situation," Ponton said. "And based on his track record, I wouldn't doubt him."

"But he's a bumbling idiot, anyone who's read the reports know that!" Madeline whispered. "What if his luck finally runs out!"

"I know, that's why I tried to talk him out of this-Inspector!" Ponton yelled. Looking around her cover, she saw the man running towards the Eiffel tower.

"Ah, a challenger for me?" Rip said, reloading his musket. "I think I'll let this one go, he seems to be far braver than the others. A good prey for my hunt."

Waiting at the dining area, lounging in at a table and sipping at a glass of water, she smiled as the doors opened. "What took you so long?" she said.

"_Inspector Jacques Clouseau!_" Clouseau said loudly. "You're under arrest for murder, terrorism, firing an unlicensed weapon in a public area-"

Rip yawned. "You're so _boring,_" she said, leveling her musket. "I don't think I'll use my powers on you," she said, pulling the trigger.

The ball speed from the barrel, flying through the air at the elevator. But even at that range, a musket is a terrible weapon to fire one-handed and unaimed, the ball flying past Clouseau by a good foot. He didn't flinch.

"If you were not such a clear _keeler_, I would tell you to upgrade your weapon!" he said. "But I am taking you to prison!"

"I don't think so clown," she said. "Your little show is over!" With a yell, she leaped at Clouseau. She found herself with a fist in her face, then pulled forward and flipped over Clouseau's shoulder, landing on the floor with a thud, her musket clattering to the floor.

"That's it then," Clouseau said, kicking the gun away. "Now-_OOOF!_" he said. Before he could slap the cuffs on Rip, she shoved back, pushing Clouseau down and dazing his slightly, as she ran for her rifle. As she grabbed it, Clouseau latched onto her back, trying to wrestle the cuffs onto her. Rip tried to smack the Frenchman in the face, and she did, but his grip on tightened. Then she slammed her elbow into…well, let's say Clouseau needed a lot of ice after his fight. Finally grabbing her rifle, she quickly tried to reload, when Clouseau started talking, in a rather high voice. "_I know why you have those powers!_" he said. "_You use those powers to guide the bullet because you are a terrible shot!_"

Rip paused, then started laughing. "_Vat?_ You're _verruckt!_" she said, still reloading despite her laughing. "I'm an _expert_ marksman! What gives you the right to call me a bad shot!"

"Your powers…you wouldn't need them if you were actually a decent shot," Clouseau said, stumbling around, and hearing a faint humming noise to his rear. He then knew he had to stall. "If you were truly a great marksman, you would only need a single shot without any help," he said. "Instead, you use these powers as a handicap, because you know that your weapon is a terrible choice for a sniper's weapon," he said. "You just can't accept that you can't use a sight, or any kind of advanced weapon, because you don't know how!"

"_Verschclossen!_" Rip yelled, almost finished loading. "I am Rip Van Winkle! I am the Huntress! Only _Zamiel _can kill me!"

"_Die Freischutz,_" Clouseau said. "You believe you are Max?" Rip nodded. "But Max was merely a man desperate for help. He took the magic bullets out of necessity," he said. "Did you take them from necessity, or from want?"

"Well…" Rip said, backing away towards the edge of the restaurant and tower. As she did, the elevator rose to the dining area, Ponton inside, shooting past Clouseau at Rip, who fell back in shock, through the glass and over the edge, screaming as she did. Seeing Clouseau running to the edge, she yelled. "_If I go to hell, you'll be there with me, Zamiel!_" Firing her weapon, she guided the bullet straight into Clouseau's chest, causing him to fall backwards. Rip's triumph was short lived, as she found herself impaled on Madeline's silver sword.

"Inspector!" Ponton screamed, rushing to Clouseau's side. "Inspector, please, don't!" he cried, trying to get Clouseau up, the Inspector's eyes wide in shock, not saying a thing. Crushed, Ponton let his head fall onto Clouseau's lap, and heard a small, barely audible, "_Good one…_"

"Inspector!" Ponton said, helping Clouseau up. "But how! That was a straight shot to the chest!"

"My _Legion d'honneur_," Clouseau said, pulling the now dented medal out of his shirt. "Muskets, along with being horribly inaccurate, also have slow velocity when compared to modern projectile weapons." Clouseau smiled. "Now, Ponton, I'd rather like to get to a hospital…"

"Of course, right away, sir!" Ponton said, helping his partner to his feet and down the elevator, to a cheering Holy League and a saluting Madeline.

"_Stupefiant!_" she cried. "Clouseau, is there anything I can do for you!"

"Just one thing," he said. "Please tell Inspector Dreyfus that the operation was a success."

"Inspector Dreyfus told you to do this?" Ponton said, shocked.

"Of course!" Clouseau said. "You didn't think I would do something so stupid unless I was ordered, did you?"

* * *

In Japan, Doc was running roughshod over Tokyo, his demons making short work of the local police and military. He was laughing like a madman, at least until one of his demons suddenly exploded in a beam of light. "_Vas?_"

Standing in the light were five girls, all wearing what looked like ridiculous outfits (This coming from the man with no real shirts to speak of).

"I have to say, we're all rather angry about what you're doing!" the one in the front said. "Hurting all those innocent people, and killing all the police and soldiers who were just doing their jobs!"

"Who are you!" Doc screamed. "Get out of that light and show yourselves!"

"We are the guardians of truth and justice!" said one of the girls, jumping out of the light and landing in front of Doc. She had brown hair, was rather tall to.

"We are the protectors of love and friendship!" said another as she landed. This one was blonde, with long hair and an orange outfit.

"We defend the innocent and helpless!" said the third, a girl with blue hair.

"We defeat those who do evil against them!" said the fourth, a girl with long dark hair.

"We are the Sailor Scouts, champions of justice! In the name of the Moon, we will right wrongs and punish evil, and that means you!"

Doc and the demons just stared at the five, unable to process what they had just been told, until Doc finally ordered, "Attack!"

"Shine Aqua Illusion!" Mercury said, as she forced a blast of water from nowhere at Doc and his demons, pushing them back. Many of the demons were not accustomed to such water, and were instantly ripped apart from our plane of existence, sent back to hell.

"What are you all waiting for!" Doc said, shaking himself dry. "Attack!"

"Jupiter Thunder Clap _ZAP!_" Jupiter yelled, throwing a ball of lightning at the monsters. But there were still many more, and they quickly grabbed hold of the pair, trying to squeeze the life from their bodies.

"Hey you freaks!" the surviving police yelled, firing their remaining weapons. "Come over here, those girls aren't for you!" The demons growled in pain, turning to try and attack the police, but the two Scouts did away with them, sending them back to the fire as well.

"Mars Firebird Strike!" Mars yelled. The demons started to laugh, all being used to fire, but quickly changed their tune when they found it was being thrown at them by a priestess.

"Venus Love Chain Encircle!" The remaining demons were caught up in the pure light and destroyed, and now it was only Doc and Sailor Moon.

"I don't know who you are," he said, shakily raising a remote at the girl. "But I won't die alone!"

"I'm not going to kill you," Sailor Moon said, sweeping her arm to the side. "I'm going to save you, to bring you back!" Before Doc could ask what she was talking about, she pulled out a wand with a crescent on the end, twirled it, and started spinning. "Moon Healing ActivatioAAAH!" She fell to the ground, look at where Doc's laser had hit.

"Odd," Doc said. "The calibration in the mirrors must be off." Then he grinned evilly. "No matter. Killing you will be a-" He never finished the sentence, because James Bond appeared and shot him in the back of the head.

"I agree," he said, putting the pistol back into his pockets and nodding at the Scouts. "Ladies."

* * *

"_WHAT THE *BLEEP* IS GOING ON!_" Jan shouted.

"Patience, brother," Luke said, annoyed. "The author's almost done with the chapter."

* * *

"Are we almost there?" Marian said. "In fact, where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when-"

"Good evening. Tonight, we take a close-up look, at vampire hunting! Hello there!"

Looking to her right, Integra saw…"John Cleese?"

"No, Lionel P. Runthrught," he said. "But you are Sir Integra Wingates Fairbrooks Hellsing?"

"Yes…" Integra said, edging away from the microphone being shoved in her face.

"Please, talk into the camera," Runthrught said, pointing off into the distance, to a wrecked building. "Now, you are a vampire hunter?"

"What bloody camera!" Integra said.

"That one, right there, see?" Runthrught said, pointing in the same direction. "But first, as I asked, you are a vampire hunter, correct?"

"She is!" Marian cried. "She's the greatest vampire hunter in all the world!"

"What camera!" Integra said again, looking over and still seeing nothing.

"And who might you be?" Runthrught asked.

"I'm Marian Amethyst Raven Yumi Sappho Urania Elizabeth!" She said. "And I'm Sir Hellsing's personal bodyguard!"

"Oh, but aren't you a vampire yourself?" Runthrught asked, as Graham Chapman walked onto the scene, dressed in a large black cape and wearing large plastic fangs.

"_I vant to suck your blaad!_" he said, his fangs falling out, Marian laughing at the lack of fright.

"No, really, where is the bloody camera!" Integra said, drawing her sword on Runthrught.

"I don't think you're quite cut out to hunt vampires if you're pointing that at me," Runthrught said, the tip of the sword poking into his nose.

"A blancmange! Where!" Eric Idol said, running onto the scene dressed as a middle-aged housewife. "The 'usband's right hungry for dessert!"

"What's happening here!" Integra cried. "Where are you all coming from!"

"Not to worry, Sir Hellsing," Michael Palin said, waltzing in wearing a red coat and slacks. "Tis a little joke, a jest, made to appease the fans who may need a break from the serious story!" With that, he turned to an abandoned store and winked.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT!"

"Right, right, right, that's enough of this," Terry Jones said, walking onto the street dressed as a bobby. "I think we've all had enough of you, now, Vlad, let's go, we've got a warrant out for you!"

"_She tuld me she vas legal!_" Chapman said, as he was thrown into a store window.

"_WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE A LICK OF SENSE!_" Integra cried.

"Right, that's enough of this," Chapman said, back as the Colonel. "The author clearly doesn't realize the true essence of the troupe, so I'm cutting him off right here! Flyboy, on the command 'Change', go immediately to New York!" As he said that, a chorus line made up of Iscariot agents started dancing behind the group.

"_AND WHERE DID THEY COME FROM!_" Then Nazis started floating from the sky, wearing ballet tutus. "_**AND WHY ARE THEY WEARING THOSE!**_"

"Flyboy, cut!"

* * *

As the Ghostbusters tried to make sense of what just happened, the boy from earlier popped back into existence, and Ray wasted no time capturing him.

"WHAT!" he yelled. "WHERE'S ALHAMBRA!"

"You don't wanna know," Venkman said. "Now, Winston, no shooting, we need him."

"Fine," Winston said, lowering the launcher. "But on one condition."

"What's that?" Ray asked, as Schro tried to fight his way out of the capture stream.

"Well, what are you supposed to do with a new pet?" Winston said with an evil grin.

"What?" Schro said, seeing the Ghostbuster's evil smiles. His screams were even louder than Alhambra's, if it was possible.

* * *

"Detective, please, wake up," D said, shaking Orcot awake. "You seem to be having a terrible dream."

"Whu…huh?" Orcot said, blinking awake. "Sorry, D, I'm just so damn tired…"

"Quite alright, Detective," D said, helping his "friend" up. "Everyone else is quite tired as well."

"But I had the weirdest dream…that these two buddies of mine were running down the boulevard with all these movie stars…and then I was in Japan…with the _stupidest _superheroes I've ever seen!"

"You've never seen Cable, then," D said.

* * *

**Um yeah...folks, this is Deadpool...Um, Flyboy's pretty nuts from writing this chapter, but before we sedated him, he said he'd get back to the serious stuff soon...No! Give him way more than that, it's not _nearly_ enough! So yeah, just wait while we try and get things back to normal. In the meantime, can you guy's _please_ try and give a review longer than one sentence? Does us a lot better for improving the story.**


	12. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

As members of the New York State Police held the barricade on the 95 turnpike alongside the Port Chester police, they had their hands full enough just keeping panicky civilians calm and off the roads. If whatever was happening in New York spread, they were going to have to keep it contained long enough for what little backup could be spared, anything from National Guard to the Boy Scouts would have to do. So when they saw a dark black sedan racing towards them, they got anxious. "_Stop you vehicle and exit immediately!_" the ranking officer said into his car's speakers, a detective with ten years experience. "_Do it now, or we will open fire!_"

The sedan coasted to a stop about five yards before the barricades, the doors opening slowly. Three dark shapes stepped out, and it took a second for the police to train their lights on them. They couldn't believe who was stepping out, many of the civilians scattered about for cover, not willing to be caught in a massive gunfight. The police just stood at their positions, not knowing what to do. Slowly, the Saints moved forward to the barricade, the police unwilling to really make any kind of move.

"Are you going to let us pass?" Connor asked, as the three finally stopped at the barricades. "You know we're not the villains here, so please, step aside and let us help."

"You can't do that," the detective said, keeping his weapon up and ready, though he knew some of the younger officers were probably wavering. The Saints had almost become legends to some of the younger officers, able to do what they no doubt had some dreams of; taking on the bad guys before they could tie up the legal system. The detective knew better, though. Vigilantes were still illegal, and the Saints were some of the most infamous around. The detective had faced this sort of thing before, heard stories of worse ones from pals in the city. Far as he was concerned, these "Saints" were just as criminal as the others.

"We're tryin' ta help ya, damnit," Murphy said, sounding angry that the police were actually trying to do their jobs instead of helping them. "If you'll get on your radios you'll see help's already pouring into the city."

"That's not for us to decide!" the detective barked. "Now get down on the ground, you're all under arrest for vigilantism!"

"Are ya mad!" Murph said, Connor putting his arm in front of his brother to calm him down, Il Duce just standing back and watching.

"You know we're not evil," Connor said. "And you know we don't kill police, so if you'd kindly just let us walk past-"

"No, damnit, you're not getting through!" the detective screamed. The older officers kept their guns trained, but the younger ones were wavering heavily now. Their hands shakily gripped their weapons, their eyes darting everywhere for a sign of what to do. "Last chance, put your hands over your head, you're all under arrest!"

"Hey, you can't arrest them!" one of the civilians said, a small middle-aged man wearing a stained t-shirt and pair of jeans. "They're doing more good than you cops ever dreamed of!"

"Back off!" the detective shouted, turning to aim the weapon at the man. "They're acting against the law, we have to arrest them!"

"The hell you do!" said another one, a young woman wearing a loose sweater and converse sneakers. "You just want to arrest them because you're jealous!"

"Who'd be jealous of murderers!" said a third man, this one wearing a pressed suit. "All they've ever done is kill, kill, kill!"

"That's what we need!" the first man yelled back, the police trying to follow what was happening before it got out of hand. "We need to wipe out all those bastards and degenerates!"

"So where's the line, huh!" the second man said, before the woman rushed over and smacked him across the face. The man pushed her back, while other people around the cordon started arguing themselves, as the Saints stayed where they were, paying no attention to the fighting behind them, just watching the police, as the violence escalated.

"We've gotta stop this before it goes too far," one of the State police officers said. "They'll screw everything up."

"I got it!" the detective snapped. "You all!" he said, pointing at the younger officers. "Get out there and break those people up! Right now!" The officers complied, rushing past the Saints and into the crowd, breaking up the fighting as best they could. The three men just kept standing at the barricades, waiting to be let through. Finally having had enough, the detective marched out from behind the barricades, pulling out his handcuffs and going to slap them on the Saints, when the crowd surged forward, seeing their idols/villains being arrested/trying to be rescued from arrest. In the confusion, the police had to leave their positions, trying to keep the crowd from tearing itself apart. Nightsticks slammed into stomachs, pepper spray burned eyes and noses. The crowd tried to fight back, but the ones who supported the police helped to pin the others down, and in a few minutes, the crowd was controlled again, though the police found that by the time they had gotten things settled, the Saints were gone, and one of their cruisers was missing.

"Why do I have ta be in the back?" Murph said. "Smells like piss and puke back here!"

"Doesn't matter where you sit," Connor said. "Now hold on, I've gotta make a call," he said, pulling out a cell phone of a former Mafiosi.

* * *

In the Boston FBI office, Agent Smecker was juggling calls and stealing quick glances at the TV when his cell rang. Shaking his head, he opened it. "If this is about last weekend, you fruit, it's over, get on with life."

"_No wonder you can't stay in a relationship for more than a week,_" Connor's voice said on the other end. Quickly, Smecker hung up the phone, shut the door and closed the blinds to his office. "_I thought you should know you won't be seeing us for a while._"

"Don't tell me you've actually gone there, Connor," Smecker said, practically whispering. "This isn't some mob deal, it's bigger than that. You really think you'll know what you're doing!"

"_We've already thought this out,_" Connor said. "_You know we can help those people. And once we're done, we're moving on._"

"So why tell me? Afraid I'll get lonely?"

"_You know how well-known we've become,_" Connor said. "_This is so you know that anyone who claims to be us is an imposter._"

"Not giving my deductive skills much credit anymore, huh?" Smecker said, trying to smile, his face going right back to a scowl. "Why, Connor? You really think this has anything to do with cops and robbers anymore? This-"

"_Is the kind of situation that those who God speaks to calls them forward for,_" another voice said, Smecker realizing it was their father. "_It is why he has his angels and their blackened wings here on earth._"

"You aren't angels, pal, you're wanted men! And right now, I'd show a little more discretion, because after all this blows over, and the NYPD find you, you'll be up to your asses in shit!"

"_I told you, we won't be staying in New York,_" Connor said, taking the phone back. "_We've found a new place. We'll stay there until the search is called off._"

"One, the search will never be off, Connor, you're all too famous for that!" Smecker said, almost growling. "Two, who's taking you? In case you haven't realized it, the only places you could go-" He stopped himself.

"_That's right. Places where the police don't care. Places where the criminals rule. And we know people who can take us to one such place._"

"Who are they Connor, tell me that at least," Smecker said. He may have let the Saints go because they were actually trying to stay to some kind of code, but if these people transporting them were able to slip them out of the country in a way that the brothers didn't care at all, they were a much bigger threat.

"_All I can tell you is that the Lord works in mysterious ways,_" Connor said. "_I've got ta hang up now, Paul. Good luck with your career._"

"Connor!" Smecker yelled, hearing the line die. Silently, he just stared at the cell phone, not noticing his desk phone ring like crazy.

"Paul, you okay?" one of the other agents said. "Why aren't you answering your phone? And why are the blinds drawn?"

"I just needed a minute to think," Smecker lied, putting the phone down. "But I think I'll make a call now." Grabbing his landline, he hung up on all the other lines and dialed an old friend in Washington.

* * *

Despite the massive manpower effort around the White House, the J. Edgar Hoover building still had plenty of agents in it, many simply trying to piece together what had happened. Agent Jeffery Spender was one of those agents, trying to cull together any leads on any terrorist groups who would be capable of such a thing in America's borders, but that list was small and with scant leads. Thankfully, for him, his phone rang, and he grabbed at it. "Agent Spender."

"_Guess who?_"

"Paul, I really don't have the time to deal with you right now, and you don't have the time to make your jokes, got it?"

"_Now don't hang up, Jeff,_" Smecker said. "_I think I might have a guess on who can tell us what's happening._"

"I've already gone through the domestic and foreign files, Paul, I don't know where else to look!"

"_Oh really?_" Smecker said teasingly. "_Have you checked Agent Mulder's files?_"

"You know that everyone who knows you hates it when you use that voice," Spender said. "Fine, I'll check. Call me on my mobile, I'll be able to tell you more once I get to Mulder's office." Hanging up his phone, Spender rushed to the basement, picking up when his mobile went off. "Okay, here I am."

"_Look for any files on religious extremists or science and magic coming together._"

"Oh, don't tell me you believe any of this crap!" Spender said angrily.

"_I don't, but that doesn't mean the people doing this don't either. Now c'mon, I can't do much up in Boston, can I._"

Grunting, Spender dug into the files, flipping through them and being quite annoyed. "I've got a few here, one about voodoo and zombies, one about four girls being killed, one about a tent healer-"

"_That's all you can find? There's gotta be more than that!_"

"Would you kindly just wait?" Spender said, before he stopped. "Here's something." Slowly, he pulled out the file. "X15583-B32A. 1967; Texas, three churches vandalized and their sacred properties stolen, local priests and religious beaten, in one case…in one case drained of blood. Ten days later, the day FBI agents were called for assistance, three bodies were discovered, along with all missing property." He found another. "X326334-BY24. 1984; a priest living near the Choctaw nation in Oklahoma was found…ritualistically murdered. It's noted the priest was a bigot. A strange corpse was later found in front of the church, multiple bullet wounds."

"_Catholic vigilantes,_" Smecker said, almost shocked.

"Here's what we're looking for," Spender said, finding a rather weighty file in the bottom drawer of Mulder's cabinet. "He's got files on everyone here, Jews, Muslims," he said, pulling out a folder. "And Catholics." Going over to Mulder's desk, Spender opened and read. "The Catholic Church, over it's many centuries of existence, has always tried, in it's eyes, to be the shining beacon on the hill, the guiding light for millions of people worldwide. However, in the recent decades, certain incidents, not only in the United States, but worldwide, have indicated that the Catholic faith has many more secrets than can be imagined. An organization, either outside or within the Church, has worked almost tirelessly to end any and all threats towards the Church's existence and safety. And if it is indeed an organization within the Church, the questions are who they are, and who, or what, they combat against."

"_Any more specific cases?_" Smecker asked.

"A few, some involving the sudden appearance and disappearance of priests and other religious in the area of the crimes."

"_Oh no…_" Smecker said. "_Jeff, I need you to look up anything else he has, I've got to call New York._"

"I doubt you'll reach anyone," Spender said. "All the lines are either jammed or down-Paul?" Spender said, hearing the other end hang up. Shaking his head, Spender went back to looking through the files. He may not have liked Mulder, but his information could be handy against this incident.

* * *

"So you knew he was dead?" the therapist said, as Figgins held his legs close on the chair they were using in the police station. The man's voice was a little shaky, but he was only a local therapist, the worst thing he'd had to deal with before this was a child getting into the wrong crowd, or some poor drug addict. Stress from combat was far above his ability. All he could do was the best he could.

"Yeah…he was dead, you know?" Figgins said, not looking at the man. "But…he was still walking! I mean, how does something that's dead get back up and walk!" He started rocking back and forth slightly. "Coffman was a good guy, you know? Always looked out for us…Why did he try to kill me?"

"He wasn't himself anymore," the therapist said. "You have to understand, the…man that attacked him made Coffman sick, and Coffman didn't know what he was doing."

"I hope so," Figgins said. "I don't want to know what would happen if Mendez got charged for murder…"

"What about you?" the therapist said. "Surely you have some worries about other things. Your family? Can we talk about them?"

"Don't want to," Figgins said. The therapist sighed a little. He'd heard stories about this from friends who'd gone on to bigger careers, people who reverted to an almost childlike state to deal with their traumas. The way this man was acting, if he didn't get better help soon, it was all over. "Why did you join the Air Force?"

"I wanted to be a good guy," Figgins said. "I wanted to be the hero and everything, you know? But…I didn't know…"

The therapist just stared at Figgins, not knowing what to do.

* * *

"We're just about done with the trench, sir," one of the workers said, as their backhoe pulled away from the road. "And the line's attached. One good pull ought'a do it!"

"Very good, now you and the others get back to the village, on the double!" Locke said. "What about you?"

"I'll make sure this works," Mendez said, looking over at the tanker, now covered in mangled car parts. "All I need's a car."

Locke nodded. "Neils! You stay with the Airman and keep the car running! The second he says to drive, you slam that pedal hard, understand!"

"Yes, sir-"

"Sir, if I may interject, I believe I would be a better choice for this task." Turning, Locke and Mendez saw one of the other officers, a tall, skinny blonde man, who had a firm scowl on his face. "My driver's training would be a greater benefit in the chance that the suspects manage to get too close."

"Who's this?" Mendez said.

"P.C. Angel," Locke said. "Transferred in from London a few weeks ago. Good officer, and he does have a point. Angel, you do whatever Mendez here orders, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Angel said.

"You'll only have one chance at this," said the local road contractor. "Those flares'll last about an hour, and once it starts, you can't go and put it somewhere else!"

"Got it. Locke, you get your guys back to the barricades, I'll keep in contact."

"God speed, Airman," Locke said, driving back with the others to Newmarket, leaving Angel and Mendez alone. The two sat in silence, waiting.

"So you're from London?" Mendez asked. "Any idea whats…"

"No idea in the slightest," Angel said. "All I know is that some mad bastard is marching on a peaceful village, my village."

"_Ah crap, he's a gung-ho nut,_" Mendez thought. "Don't worry, I'm sure it won't be too hard."

"I doubt that," Angel said. "Our opponents are large in numbers and clearly well organized enough to take out the Home Office and various military and government centers. I would estimate that we have a one in 100,000 chance of defeating them with even minimal casualties."

"_And he's a well-educated gung-ho nut,_" Mendez thought. "So what'd you do in London?"

"I was with the SO19 Armed Response unit, a team comparable to American SWAT. I was recently wounded by a man dressed as Father Christmas who was wielding a knife in a school. I was transferred out here when my superiors believed I needed to take things more slowly."

Mendez just looked at the man, and back at the road. "Okay…so how's the hand?"

"Still a bit stiff."

After about an hour of waiting, Mendez perked up. "Give me the binoculars," he said, holding out his hand. Grabbing them from Angel, he pulled them up to his face and swore. "Son of a bitch," he said.

Out there, on the highway, a thousand strong force was marching towards them, perfect six column formation, keeping perfect time with each other. All were armed, even the smallest children, holding small pistols. "I'm going for the flare, you get ready!"

"Got it," Angel said. Leaving the door open, Mendez ran as fast and as hard as he could for the trench, reaching for the flare. Ripping off the cap, he struck at the tip until it lit, and shoved it into the opposite end from where the gas would flow. The plan was to have a small tunnel run from the tanker to the trench, the tunnel and flare opposite each other, so that the gas and enemy would have time to pool before it really lit up. Having lit the flare, Mendez beat feet back to the car and slammed the door. "Hope you're as good as you say you are!" Mendez said. "Cause it's about to hit the fan!"

As Walton marched his forces up the highway, he detected the faint smell of gasoline, and looked forward, past his formation. Ahead, he could see a wrecked pile of cars, a large trench, and a road flare shoved into the side. "Rather shoddy work," he said. "May have to think about changing this area. No matter. Move forward, climb over the debris." The ghouls did as ordered, shuffling forward towards the trench.

"My word," Angel said, holding his nose. "Even here they smell awful."

"No crap," Mendez said, keeping a close watch. "Okay, they're getting into the trench…okay, the first few are over the side, they're trying to climb the cars, drive, drive now!"

Hearing an engine, Walton saw a police car speed away, towing a line behind it. "Really? You'll try to collapse the pile? Oh dear, I certainly won't be changing Newmarket, not after this-" He stopped, and sniffed the air again. Did the smell of the gas just get stronger? Yes, but how? Looking carefully, he finally saw it, a sleek silver shape beneath the rubble. His eyes went wide, and he started to bark orders. "Turn back! Get away from that barricade!"

The ghouls turned around, tried to get back, but they were still slow creatures, and the gas poured faster and faster. Then the fumes hit the flare.

It was like the sun had suddenly appeared on Earth, the ghouls set afire. Walton kept urging his "men" back, seeing the flames leap into the night. Ghouls wandered about like giant candles, arms falling and heads rolling around on the ground. Child ghouls stumbled about like small twigs, quickly set alight and just as soon spent. The larger ones seemed to keep burning, like it was a punishment from some angry god. But that was the least of Walton's problems, as the flames spread back to the barricade. The second the tanker went, if he hadn't moved his forces fast enough, he'd lose his chance for the empire he so sorely missed.

"Any second now, man, and it's off!" Mendez said. "Just keep driving, we're still not safe yet!"

"How'd you know this would work?" Angel said. "Such a simple trap like this, I never would've fallen for it."

"You wouldn't, but this guy might've," he said. "Think about it. He's just destroyed an RAF base, he's got an army under his command! Anyone with that kind of power suddenly put on them's gonna be feeling damn near invincible! You know it yourself, second your ego comes into the picture, you're gonna make mistakes."

"Clever," Angel said. As he finished, the tanker went off, leveling at least fifty feet of ground.

Pulling himself together, Walton stood up and looked over his force. Thankfully, for him, a tanker explosion was nothing like Hollywood portrayed, but his force had still taken a hit. The front ranks were burned or still burning, and threatened to spread the flames, shrapnel from the pile doing massive damage to the front ranks. Angered, he barked, "Fire on the burning ghouls, now!" His forces did as ordered, rounds flying into what were once "loyal soldiers". Growling, Walton turned towards where Newmarket was. "Wing! Right _hace! _Forward _harch!_"

As a wave, the ghouls marched down the scorched highway, a deathless tide sweeping over the ground towards the village. The battle of Newmarket had begun.

* * *

"Time to wake up," Vincenzo said, shaking O'Connor awake. "Raju's just started talking again, but he's really pouring on the fire 'n brimstone crap. I think he's gonna try something."

"Like what?" O'Connor said, rubbing his eyes. "Make us join the seminary?"

"No, man, he's going on old testament stuff, real wrath of God. I keep talking about this with Mahon, he says Raju's never gone off like this. And the other priests, the ones who aren't toting around magnums? They say that Raju's a pretty old school guy, like pre-Vatican II type beliefs."

"Including a belief that heretics and nonbelievers aren't exactly worth the space?" O'Connor said, worried.

Vincenzo nodded. "He's getting the crowd pretty worked up too. We won't have enough bullets if they do go nuts, and Carter's getting a little antsy himself."

"Just keep him low, I'll try and talk to Raju."

"I wouldn't recommend that," Mahon said. "Raju already told me that he sees you both as rather unsavory Catholics, sticking up for your friend and all," Mahon said. "I can't argue with taking your younger companion out of his misery, but I know this is wrong somehow."

"So what, we just keep let him going?" O'Connor said. "These people in here are frightened, and they'll listen to anyone in a position of authority, no matter what he's saying! And unless we find a way to separate them from the pack, we're all in trouble!"

"I really don't know what to do," Mahon said, sitting down on the pew. "In Iscariot, they teach you to follow your superiors, listen exactly to what they say, they are God's choosen."

"Theology later, crazy priest now!" Vincenzo said.

"Monsignor, actually," Mahon said.

"Not the _point!_" Vincenzo whispered. "Listen, I say we try and make for the roof, it's better than nothing!"

"Fr. Mahon?" Spinning, the three saw Raju standing behind them, a coy smile on his face. "Is something wrong here?"

"No, not at all, Monsignor," Mahon said. "We were just…talking…"

"About making sure that this area was completely secure," O'Connor said. "Msng., with your permission, I'd like to make sure that this area is completely secure." He stole a quick look over at Carter. "And I'd like to…take care of the remaining problem we seem to have."

Raju smiled even wider. "Of course," he said. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have to explain our greater plan for after this incident."

"Of course, Mnsg," O'Connor said, bowing his head a little. Vincenzo just stared at them like his partner just grew an extra head.

"Alright, you baptist bastard, on your feet," O'Connor said, to Carter's complete shock. "You'll be coming downstairs with us, right Father?"

"Of course," Mahon said. "You too, officer," he said, motioning to Vincenzo. "You'll be helping us with this errand."

"What?" Carter said, as O'Connor turned him around and cuffed him. "Hey, c'mon, Mike, it's me, Carter! Remember, I lost that bet we had for who'd make the most arrests last month? You said I didn't have to wear the dress around the station!"

"And a crossdresser," O'Connor said, spitting on Carter's neck. "Despicable. C'mon, get moving!" he said, kicking Carter in the butt to get him moving, Vincenzo going with them in disbelief, as the black suited guards and two other younger priests just watched, as the "congregation" nodded in approval.

"Let's go you," O'Connor said, shoving Carter down the stairs to the basement, Carter landing on the ground in a heap. His face was full of fear, his eyes darting back and forth from O'Connor to Mahon to Vincenzo, who just stood behind in shock. The edges of Carter's eyes started to tear, his mouth working desperately to try and reason with his colleague. Then O'Connor pulled his weapon, and Carter shut his eyes tight, not able to see a friend kill him this way.

Listening from above, Raju listened carefully, and heard the satisfying "crack" that 9mm rounds made. "Make sure the body is cleaned up after this, we don't need any diseases taking hold after this," he said to the two other Iscariots, who nodded dutifully, as they said to themselves, "_We are so screwed._"

Opening his eyes, Carter saw O'Connor holding a finger to his lips as he holstered his weapon. "Let's leave'm here," he said. "No need to dirty the church with his filthy blood."

"Agreed," Mahon said. "Come, officers. We still have to make sure of our plans for later."

Vincenzo nodded, trying to keep his oncoming heart attack from taking hold. Marching up the stairs back into the main cathedral area, Carter kept as quiet as he could, wiggling his belt enough to get at his own key for the handcuffs. After a few close calls, nearly losing the key in the basement darkness, he finally, as quietly as he could, opened them, rubbing his wrists. Quietly, he also made sure to thank…God?

It was funny. He'd meant what he said earlier about how he couldn't believe in God anymore after what he'd lived through, but now…No, it was O'Connor who had saved him, there was no divine intervention. Or was there? Not that he could see. But why did he think of thanking God?

"_Focus! Work out your beliefs later, you've got to figure out how to survive through this!_" Taking stock, he still, thankfully, had his weapon and the few rounds left in it. He also has his mace, half full, and a still working TASER with two more cartridges. Keeping to the stairs to at least try to hear what was happening, all he heard was Raju going on about salvation and God's mercy and some other bull. Until he got the all clear, he'd wait until O'Connor gave the word.

* * *

"Anyone has any ideas, I'd like to hear'em!" Winston said, firing his proton pack into the constantly advancing ghouls. The force had retreated all the way back to Wall Street, the police desperately firing into the hordes. The civilians they had saved earlier quickly barricaded the buildings they had run into, throwing whatever they could in front of the doors and fleeing for the higher floors. The few volunteers they had gathered were herded around the ambulance and van, staring with fear at the advancing mass.

"There are still survivors in City Hall, that's where we have to get to first!" Ray said, trying to slow the ghouls down with slime, his pack starting to overheating with all the use.

"_Guys, we've got some help!_" the ambulance radioed. "_They're coming from the tunnel, there's hundreds of'em!_"

"Are they police?" Ray asked.

"_Um…not exactly…I'll put the head honcho on._" A second later, a heavily accented voice came on. "_**This is Cmdr. Finneman, Crown Heights Shmira. Sorry we're late, tunnels are hell this time of night.**_"

"I'll talk to him," Venkman said, taking the radio from one of the officers. "This is Dr. Venkman, how fast can you help us get to City Hall?"

"_**We're lining up on Morris Street,**_" Finneman said."_**We'll spread as we move up. Where are you now?**_"

"We're stuck on Wall Street," Venkman said. "I'd recommend you get here fast, or we'll be outta business."

"_**Got it,**_" Finneman said. "_**I'm sending some of my best guys up, just be patient!**_"

"Got it!" Putting the radio back, he yelled, "The guys from Crown Heights are coming to help us out, they'll be here soon!"

"What?" the police said, second guessing what Venkman just announced.

"That's what the nice man on the radio said," Venkman yelled, going back to keep firing at the ghouls. Five minutes later, the police and Ghostbusters heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Turning, they saw two massive figures coming towards them. The two creatures walked past the barricades, into the mass of ghouls, ripping them apart and beating them to a pulp. The police just watched in awe.

"Hmm. Artificially made animates," Egon said, observing. "Made of local soil. I've read about similar creatures used in Jewish areas worldwide."

"One of our best traditions," said a voice behind them. Turning, the Ghostbusters saw a small group of men in combat gear coming up behind them, a large star of David on their right arms. One of the men, however, was dressed in a traditional rabbi's garb, hat, shawl and all. "We've been saving these just in case we needed some heavy stuff." He stuck out his hand. "Rabbi Spielmann, at your service."

"Pleasure," Venkman said, shaking the rabbi's hand. "Can we get one of those? We've needed a good security system."

"How many men do you have?" Winston asked, cutting Venkman off from going any further.

"About a hundred-fifty," Spielmann said. "But the A.O.H. and S.O.I. should have at least three hundred coming up now."

"The A.O.H…S.O.I…You don't mean-"

"I know," Spielmann said, as bits and pieces of ghoul landed nearby, the police still watching the clay men go to work. "Them Catholics love to be the biggest at everything, don't they?"

"So have you managed to contact them?" Ray asked. "Where are they now?"

"Last we checked, the Jersey State Police at the Holland tunnel reported being overwhelmed by a bunch of men in uniforms and carrying weapons. If anything, they'll be on Canal Street by now."

"Then we'd better move fast," Ray said. "There's no telling how large the horde is farther towards the epicenter." Reinforced by the Shmira/Shomrim contingents, the force managed to get to city hall and the WTC. They had feared the high rises would quickly be overrun and become filled with ghouls, but those inside had enough foresight that locking every available door and elevator would keep them from being eaten, and most of the ghouls were easily eliminated. The golems were invaluable, unable to be turned, their soil and clay bodies unable to be torn apart by the ghouls, the one thing that could destroy them atop their heads, unreachable, while they were able to do massive damage to the enemy. There were no civilians on the streets anymore. They were all changed.

Finally making their way to City Hall, they found it mostly untouched, the few night staff thankful for the rescue. Police Plaza was another story. Sending the golems in first, they had to wait ten minutes before it was clear to enter. Following the golems in, they saw the massive carnage inside. Bullet holes and casings lined the walls and floors, bloodied badges lying on the ground. Papers and guns were scattered about by the ghouls. They only found survivors on the upper floors. All fifteen of them.

"We'll stay behind, see if we can't contact anyone," the police sergeant said, as his men quickly went to work. "Rabbi, we could use whoever you could spare."

"I'll find who I can," Spielmann said, grabbing his radio, as the Ghostbusters took stock and figured out where to go next.

"Once we get to Canal Street, we should try to reform our lines so that we can cover more ground more efficiently," Winston said. "It'd be pretty stupid to send just two men to cover an entire street. Once we meet with the Hibernians and Sons, we have to get some good numbers before we do anything else."

"Can I ask one question?" Peter said. "Why is it that priests and rabbis always get the coolest reputations for this stuff?"

"I've been thinking about that actually," Ray said. "I think it has to do with the time they spend praying and meditating. I think it releases dormant parts of the brain that let them channel protons, similar in manner to our packs, only much weaker. I've already done some studies, and blessed objects seem to have a higher proton count than non-blessed ones."

"Then after this we get the proton packs blessed by every religion we can grab," Winston said. "Egon, how long can these hold out?"

"The entire night if needed," he said. "Should we really leave the police officers behind like this? Even with reinforcements, I doubt we'll have enough men to really cover the entire width we'd need."

"That's not what we need to focus on, Egon, just the biggest concentrations." Finished Winston went over to talk to Spielmann, while the other three talked amongst themselves on the research opportunities they now had, as one of the Shmira men went to contact the Iscariot auxiliaries.

* * *

At the exit to the Holland tunnel, the Sons had formed a defensive perimeter at the mouth, shooting and torching any ghoul that got too close. The problem was that there were plenty of ghouls, and against an enemy of this type, ammunition was a major problem. Already two of the flamethrowers had run out of fuel, and the men were ordered to shot only in semi-auto.

"Sir, we're getting a message!" one of the Sons said, handing the receiver to DeFilipo. "It's from Shmira."

Nodding, DeFilipo took the receiver, Harris standing nearby. "This is Commander DeFilipo, Sons of Italy."

"_Glad to see you all finally showed up,_" said a thankful, but still teasing voice. "_Guard Bloom of Shmira. I'll be your liason until we can met up with you._"

"Bloom, how long until you can get some people up here, we're not gonna make a push until we can count on some firm support?"

"_We've just retaken Police Plaza and City Hall, Cmdr. Finneman and the Ghostbusters are setting up for the next push._"

"Roger. Tell them we'll meet them on West Broadway." Hearing an affirmative, DeFilipo turned to Harris. "We'd better start moving, they'll be coming soon."

"Yeah, sure," Harris said, yawning. "What time is it anyway?"

DeFilipo checked his watch. "Close to ten," he said. "I know, it feels like we've been at this for hours. Your boys ready?"

"Oh yeah," Harris said. "Alright, I want first and second squads to clear us a path to St. John's park! We'll form a perimeter and move from there to West Broadway!"

"Roger!" the men said. Waiting until the Sons stopped firing, the two squads moved fast up and out of the tunnel, leapfrogging towards the park. The way was bumpy, the bodies so close that they made almost a second layer of road. One of the men tripped and was nearly eaten, if not for one of his squadmates grabbing him before the ghoul's teeth could sink in. The main force came behind, clearing up what was left and covering the flanks and rear. Flamethrowers lit up groups of ghouls like suns, helpful since more than a few of the streetlamps were taken out by car accidents. A few stray bullets from police officers who were turned made the men cautious, but for the most part, they arrived safely, a few minor injuries from the run over. Forming up in the block around St. John's park, some of the men running into the building to their right, taking up positions to keep the flank secure. They had all heard the reports from the Hellsing manor, but this time, the ghouls were unarmed and unorganized, and the auxiliaries prepared and equipped. And they had something the Hellsing agents never got. They never had the "benefit" of a monster doing all the work.

"Any word from the vans?" Harris yelled, firing at a ghoul dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase.

"They've managed to meet up with the division from Yonkers, they've been holding out at the George Washington," the radioman said. "They're waiting for the backup from Boston, it's already on the way down the 95."

"Got it," Harris said, finishing off the ghoul. "Okay boys, we're holding here until the Jews get here! Do or die time!"

It was a fight like none the men had ever faced before. Ghouls emerged from every building and alley. Sparks and bursts of flame blossomed in the night. Ghouls fell like rocks, the auxiliaries firing as fast as their fingers could pull the trigger. Sharp, disciplined shots through the head, the crump of grenades and fwoosh of flamethrowers and M202 launchers, bonfires almost blinding the men. And they would have to hold the park until the Ghostbusters finally made it to their position.

* * *

"We've finally gotten in contact with what's left of the LAPD," the team leader, a "Chuck", announced. "They're working with the Beverly Hills police, they're holding at Santa Monica Boulevard. We've also contacted the Glendale police, they're actually holding the area around Los Feliz Blvd and Tropico with other members of the LAPD and California Highway patrol. We'll meet up with them at the San Fernando-Los Feliz intersection, and make a move with the Beverly Hills survivors towards Dodgers stadium The Blackhawks are coming in, along with the forces from Groom Lake in under the hour. Any questions?"

"Yeah, what're the odds this'll actually work right?" Val asked, deadpan.

"Or the odds of us surviving?" Earl asked.

"Or us getting paid?" Grady asked.

"Not good if you keep asking," Burt said with a scowl. "Alright, everyone on the truck, we're moving!" The team nodded, jumping into the bed of the truck, Chuck and his second, Linus, taking the cab. With a rumble, the truck pulled out into the night, quickly arriving at the meeting point, a wall of police to their front. One of the officers waved them over to a meeting area. While the rest of the group waited in the truck, Burt and Chuck jumped out and went over to talk to the man in charge, LAPD Lt. Al Powell.

"Glad to see we've finally got some backup," Powell said, sparing a quick glance at Burt's Grizzly before leading them over to a small table with a map on it. A member of the Highway Patrol and Glendale police were also there. "Whatever those things are, they're more concentrated to the south and west. Mission Junction's a mess last we heard, and the Marines in Pendleton are still waiting for the Feds to get through and give them the word."

"What about the National Guard?" Burt asked.

Powell shook his head. "The governor is still trying to piece together what's happening, and until he get's the word it's clear enough he's keeping the Guard on blockade duty until everything's straight. Not that it matters. The 40th Infantry are still getting their people together."

"Well we've gotten word that a special unit is being sent in from Nevada," Chuck said. "They'll be here in a half hour."

"So why even move?" the Glendale officer blurted out. "We could just stay here, wait for these guys to clear out the area before we move in!"

"We still have that thing in the sky," Burt said, pointing up. "And until we know it isn't hostile, we need a command center. We all know Parker Center's down and out."

"We haven't heard a thing from City Hall either," Powell said, rubbing his head. "So we set up Dodgers Stadium as an HQ. Well then what?"

"Once we're there we wait for the unit from Nevada to meet up with us. Once that's done we set about securing the city while they move on to the force in Beverly Hills."

"Sounds like a plan," the Highway Patrol officer said. "And the civilians?"

"Well, we have to make sure they're not bitten. Anything else is secondary, even looting." Chuck looked each man in the eye with a glare that would stop a charging bull. "Got it?"

"Got it," the men said. Quickly, they conferred, and decided the Glendale police would stay behind in case things went south. Burt, Chuck, Powell, and the Highway Patrolman, Quint, explained the plan to their respective groups, and soon, a long convoy of vehicles was idling to go, the rental truck at the front.

"Remember, we can't stop for anything," Chuck said. "Go around accidents, and don't even stop for civilians, as harsh as that sounds. We have to make sure the Stadium is secure before we do anything else. Now let's move out!"

Lights on and sirens blaring, the truck and convoy pulled onto San Fernando, the team on the truck picking away at the odd ghoul they came across. Earl and Val had always considered themselves decent shots, but the way the agents with them fired was amazing, making the target drop from more than fifty yards.

"Man, I kinda wish we could work with Vincent right now," Patty said, shooting at another ghoul. "She's probably done by now."

"Sir, that's classified, remember?" Marcy said, reloading.

"Yeah, yeah," Patty growled, feeling the truck shudder for a second. "Hey boss, what was that!"

"_I think we should've added a plough to the front,_" Chuck said. "_There's still a decent number of these things on the road, it'll be a test to get by'em without their torso's coming through the windshield._"

"Burt, I'd say now's a good time to break out that Grizzly!" Earl yelled, firing at a cluster of ghouls coming up on the right."

"No can do, Earl!" Burt said, shooting to the front of the truck. "I only have two dozen rounds for it, I can't just go shooting off at whatever I like!"

"Then why'd you bring it along, genius!" Val shouted, cocking his shotgun.

"Never hurts to be prepared!" Burt said, taking out another three ghouls.

* * *

As this was going on, in the air above LA, a group of fifteen C-5 Galaxy cargo jets were lowering to 10,000 feet, getting ready to drop the ten walkers of the 1st Combat Walker Squadron, Alpha flight into battle for the first time. "Valkyrie Squadron" was being given their baptism of fire.

"All systems check out," Capt. Eckhart said to his co-pilot, Lt. Cole. "How's the gun looking?"

"Camera works fine," Cole said. "360 traverse too. Legs?"

"Diagnostics check out," Eckhart said. "How long until we drop?"

"_Two minutes,_" the loadmaster said.

"Alright, Valkyries, ears!"

"_Open!_" the other pilots answered.

"Alright boys, we'll be landing right next to Paramount Blvd. Once we're all settled, we're gonna move through the city and take out any enemy resistance we can find. We'll meet up with local authorities at Dodger's stadium and move from there to Beverly Hills and meet with the remaining police forces."

"_What about civies?_" one of the pilots asked.

"Well, try not to kill'em, that's obvious," Eckhart said. "We're here to save people, secrecy is second."

"_So they'll be running I.C.?_"

"No idea," Eckhart answered. "Right now secrets are coming out left and right, this is one that'll probably be damn easy to keep under wraps. Now any other questions?"

"_What do we do about the UFO?_"

"The blackhawks'll handle it. We can take shots if it comes into range, but we're focusing on the ground, nothing else."

"_One minute to drop,_" the pilot announced.

"Alright, Valkyries, get ready for drop!" Eckhart said, as the doors to the rear of the plane opened to the cold fall night. The loadmaster in each plane made last second checks to the parachute lines attached to the walkers. If the walkers hit the ground from this height, the walkers and pilots would be turned into scrap. With red lights flashing in the cargo bays, the pilot of each Galaxy gave the signal for drop. The walkers slowly rolled out towards the back, dropping like bombs through the air, the chutes trailing behind. Slowly, the massive parachutes unfurled, as the walkers dropped quickly from 10,000 to 9,500…9,000…8,500…

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hollowed be thy name," Eckhart whispered, waiting for the chute to fully deploy. A sudden lurch signaled it had, and he quickly went to see how the others were doing. Valkyrie four looked like it was having trouble, but the chute blossomed after a second. Smiling, Eckhart punched in a command on his radio, and inserted a small USB drive. "Okay boys, wedge formation when we hit, we'll move straight up and stop for nothing, understood?"

"_HUA!_"

"Roger that," Eckhart said, turning on the radio, and letting _The Trooper _flow through the flight's radio.

The second the walker hit the ground, Eckhart detached the chute and hit the throttle, speeding across the barren park and into L.A. Civilians, hiding in their houses and businesses, looked out to see massive walkers speed down the streets, firing massive chain guns at the enemy. Their top turrets swung in every direction, firing to the left, right and rear, the heavy rounds making hamburger out of the ghouls. "_Who needed silver bullets when you had a big weapon,_" Eckhart thought, as he fired at a cluster of ghouls. "_Ballistics on the damn things would be terrible anyway._"

The formation stomped through L.A. like dinosaurs in a movie, massive square behemoths, leaving deep impact craters where they went. Even if a ghoul wasn't finished by the gunfire, the ten ton foot that came down on them would finish the job. Any large group was bombarded by a volley of rockets, sending ghoul pieces high into the night. Even if a ghoul did have a gun, the armor on the walkers laughed it off, having been made to take a barrage from an A-10 and keep moving. The streets behind the walkers were littered with casings, holes and bodies, no piece larger or higher than a soda bottle. The civilians that had seen it could scarcely believe their eyes as they watched the robots march off towards Downtown.

Going as fast as they could, the convoy got to the stadium in about twenty minutes, and went to clearing the area. The agents drove through first, stopping right in front of the stadium as bait, while the cops dismounted and fired from their cars, picking off the ghouls that were congregating around the truck. Despite their reputation for being a little too trigger-happy, the LAPD and Highway patrol were still police, and they were serving and protecting the hell out of the ghouls. The agents and handymen were even smiling as they went about their work, except for Burt and Chuck, who went about the job with a hard and emotionless face. The ghouls scratched and clawed at the side of the truck, quite a few with weapons trying shoot at the group. Burt quickly disposed of them. The police also had their hands full, making sure no ghouls could sneak up on them. The fight lasted long, and then came the task of clearing the stadium. Level by level, section by section, they cleared it, forming a ring with the cars around the entrance. Sending out the all-clear, they held off the ghouls coming towards them, waiting for the support from Nevada to arrive.

The blackhawks finally arrived after that, the door gunners on Three scanning the skies for the reported UFO. "Got it on radar over Compton," the pilot said, the other hawks turning towards the area. Quickly, they made a line for the area, picking up the radio from the walkers and keeping it where it was. Ten minutes later, they were over Compton, watching with shock.

The beast was massive, a long, undulating serpent, three heads firing what looked like lightning into the area. Blackhawk Three quickly flew over, lining up the shot.

"_Huh? What's that?_" Chris asked, seeing a black void coming towards him in the night. "_Shuko, can you see it?_"

"It's an aircraft of some kind," she said. "It doesn't look like it's the police though."

"**They'll do something stupid, I know it,**" Kanan growled. "**We should take them down before they get the chance.**"

"But what if they're the good guys?" Junrei said, afraid.

"_She's right,_" Chris said. "_Only the good guys would be coming in now! We just have to help them, we have to tell them what's happening!_"

"I have the target lined up," the left gunner said, holding the 19 steady. "Waiting for clearance!"

"_FIRE!_" the pilot shouted. The gunner lit up the night firing at the head of the creature. The wall of rounds sent sparks flying across Honlon's scales, making Chris hold for dear life as the dragon bucked and turned to get away from the fire.

"Hang on Chris!" Shuko said, turning around and flying low. The helicopters followed, matching her speed rather easily.

"_Don't fire!_" Three's pilot ordered. "_We don't know if there are any civilians in the buildings!_"

"**Why are we running, we can take them easily!**" Kanan barked, as Junrei used her head to shield Chris.

"They're the military of this country, the proper authorities!" Shuko said, winding through the phone lines and poles. Looking down, she dove into the drainage basin, the hawks unable to follow.

"Pretty sure there aren't civies in there!" the gunner said, opening fire.

"**Forget this!**" Kanan yelled, tilting her head upward and readied to let out a bolt of lightning at the thing shooting at her.

"_No don't!_" Chris screamed, pulling back on Kanan's head. The bolt went to the left, the door gunner shielding his eyes despite having the visor pulled down it was so bright. The hawks pulled back to a higher altitude, but still kept on the monster.

"**Chris, what are you thinking!**" Kanan said. "**They were shooting at you, too! Why won't you let us get them!**"

"_Because they probably don't know I'm here!_" Chris shouted. "_I'm telling you, they're the good guys, don't hurt them!_"

"**So why did they shoot at us!**"

"Because they don't know what we are," Shuko said, Junrei still keeping her own head over Chris'. "Until they know we're fighting those things too, we'll just stay down here and keep Chris safe, I'm sure D will understand."

"**Oh sure, we should keep Chris safe,**" Kanan growled. "**But who's going to protect the other humans from those idiots up there!**"

"What now sir?" the gunner said, as the choppers kept over the creature.

"_Five, this is Three, can you confirm damage to Compton, over?_"

"**Roger Three, standby,**" Five's pilot replied, flying over where the monster was attacking. "**Three, this is five, area shows minimal damage, only enemy forces were targeted, over.**"

"_Roger, Five. So it's not an enemy?_"

"**Doesn't look like it killed anyone, but it looks like there's a few fires starting up. Whatever that thing was, it certainly doesn't act like a friend.**"

"_Copy Five._" Changing channels, he called the agents on the ground. "_Team, this is Hawk Five, walkers and choppers are on station, what's your status?_"

"You sure took your time!" Burt said, the distant pop of gunfire coming over the connection. "We're fine for now. The stadium's secure, and we're already getting civilians and other cops. What about that monster, what is it?"

"_Unknown, but it's big, it's long, and it appears to have the ability to discharge electricity, recommend extreme caution. We'll stay with it under we're sure it's not a threat._"

"It's still alive?" Burt said, shocked. "I thought you boys had a GAU on that bird!"

"_We do, sir, it's scales appear to be tough enough to shrug them off._"

"Alright, send one of your boys to pick me up! I'll see if my Grizzly can't finish it off!"

"_Roger. Five, proceed to Dodger's stadium and pick up Mr. Gummer ASAP. All other Hawks, keep positions and watch for this thing to make a move._"

And there they stood, Kanan and Shuko eyeing the choppers with anger, the gunners and pilots watching for even the slightest mistake.

* * *

**Hey, an update! ***Looks it over* **Rather wordy too. Too long?**

"I'm just wondering if they'll know to put the music on for that piece. And why wasn't I in this chapter!"

**Hey, I'm writing as fast as I can!**

"Which means you're writing as fast as a quadrapalegic can sprint."

**You know you really are an asshole!**

"Ah, shut up and sing the song!"

**But before I do, I'd like to ask the readers to please leave a review, with as much criticism as they can give. Think you folks can do that?**

"They're able to read your stories, aren't they?"

**Shut up and sing Wilson. I'M AN ASSHOLE!**


	13. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, Flyboy here, and no, Deadpool won't be talking with me today. I want to try something a little differently with this story while I have a chance. Instead of trying awkwardly to fit what I thought would be an appropriate soundtrack into the narritive, I want to try letting you guys listen to what I thought would be appropriate background music, and read along. Every time you see the line that seperates a scene, that'll be the cue to change the song. Now here's the list. There is one really obvious exception, though, so let the X-Files theme play to the finish, you'll know the cue when you read it.**

**X-Files Theme, Bad Company, NCIS theme, Men In Black, The Saints are Coming, The Bad Company game theme, Avatar Soundtrack Quaritch, C&C Generals theme, Stargate SG-1 theme, and finally MacGuyver theme.**

**If this is too awkward, please let me know, and I'll fix it immediately. Or, you know, just drop me a review on whether or not everyones in character or the like...**

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

As Rally and her "team" searched through the underground tunnels for survivors, she went over everything. The attacks were in New York, L.A., D.C., London, Rome, Paris and Tokyo. Their enemies were undead, and in massive numbers never before seen in the open. The president was dead, people were panicking, and she was stuck with the following. Two FBI agents who had dealt with this before and by some miracle survived, three soldiers who should, for all intents and purposes, be in Fort Leavenworth, the sergeant that had to deal with them, and a Secret Service agent who had no idea what was going on. And May.

"_Odds are not looking too good,_" she thought, trying to contact Anne again, only getting static. Grunting, she looked over at Sweetwater, who was busing himself with cleaning his glasses. "Sweetwater, can you figure out why I can't reach my superiors?"

"It's probably this tunnel itself," he said. "If I'm guessing right, it was built for a nuclear war, and for the government, that meant lead lining everything. I'd say there's literally feet of lead in this tunnel. And you know what lead does to radio and microwaves."

"Of course," Rally growled. Looking ahead, she saw what looked like a doorway in a wall of concrete, the door opened away from them. "I think there's some kind of station up ahead. We can check there, maybe someone's still alive."

Creeping slowly towards the door, the team took positions around the entrance, Rally and Redford in the front. Motioning for Redford to wait, she leaned close to the entrance. "Is anyone alive in there?"

"Friend or foe!" a badly shaken voice yelled. "I.D., now!"

"Agent Vincent, Secret Service!" Rally yelled, as the others just stared at her for the fact she was still using that same excuse. They didn't know that it was an official piece of information in the Secret Service database that the man was undoubtedly typing into, which also meant a way to get in touch with Anne.

"How do I know you're really who you say you are!" the guard yelled back. "Throw down your weapons and come out where I can see you! Slow!"

Tossing her weapons through the door, Rally started to get up, when May grabbed her shoulder. "Are you nuts!" she said. "That guy's bonkers, Rally, he'll shoot you if you even breathe wrong!"

"It's our only shot right now, May," Rally said, putting up her hands and slowly walking through the door to see no one there. "Where are you?"

"Walk forward three paces!" the voice said behind the opened door. Nodding, Rally slowly walked forward, hands still in the air. "Alright…take off the helmet and baklava!"

Nodding, Rally unstrapped the helmet and took off the baklava, throwing both down on the ground. "Now turn around and face me." In one slow move, Rally turned to the door. "Smile." She did. Satisfied a little, the guard slowly moved from the door and aimed down his scope at the teeth, then put his weapon down. "Fine, you're human. What took you so Goddamn long!"

"The White House was closed off from the inside," Rally said, picking up her headgear. "My team was caught before we could get out."

"Don't get to used to saying that, Vincent," Redford said, slowly coming through the door. "Else I'll just have to blow the whistle on all this."

"This is all classified," the guard said, missing the point. "Pvt. Ulric, sarge," the guard said, saluting. "The entire tunnel network's been taken out, and the remaining teams are probably holed up in their stations like I was."

"It's still a start," Rally said. "Do you have an idea where he went?"

"This tunnel leads to the Capitol Building, but it has branches to the National Archives and Library of Congress. Hell, we're right under Pennsylvania Ave. right now."

"And we still don't know what he wants," Mulder said. "I think I have a way to find out what these people are looking for, but I need to get to where we can communicate."

"I know an escape hatch nearby," Ulric said. "It's five yards down, follow me."

"Why would a tunnel for a nuclear war need an escape hatch?" May asked. "Isn't the point to stay down here?"

"If the enemy somehow made their way down into the tunnels, we would need a way to get the president and other VIPs out quickly."

"But wouldn't the nuke have completely wiped out everything?" Sweetwater asked. "I mean, a normal one-megaton nuclear warhead dropped from an aircraft of missile would completely obliterate everything in the city, even this far down. We'd literally be standing in a crater."

"I think that's what our enemy wants," Mulder said. "Agent Todd, what happened to the football?"

"It was destroyed," she said. "The Marines who were guarding it opened the case and destroyed it before the man could get his hands on it. It's a secret policy in case a traitor ever manages to infiltrate that deep, a leftover from the Cold War."

"I'd say it's a good thing it was leftover," Mulder said, as the group walked down the tunnel. "I think I know what our friend is trying to do."

"Then spill it already, this isn't a TV show!" May said.

"I think this person, whoever he is-"

"Richard Morgan," Ulric said, walking over to a fire extinguisher. "He's the bastard that did this."

"Morgan?" Todd said, surprised. "No way, why!

"As I was saying," Mulder said, butting in. "I think Mr. Morgan is looking for backup nuclear codes, a way to destroy whatever he wants, and ride it out in this bunker. Once he nukes Washington, he'll sit in the tunnel all safe and cozy, waiting for it to end."

"But it doesn't work like that!" Todd said. "Like the private said, he'd be blown up with the rest of us."

"No he won't," Ulric said, taking the extinguisher down and revealing a small keypad. "Something's wrong with this guy. He's…he's some kinda monster!"

"Are you saying he could survive a nuclear blast?" Scully said. "How? Unless he somehow managed to turn himself into lead-"

"It's not that," Ulric said. "He's like a monster, I mean…he ate my partner," Ulric said, with the voice of a man trying not to sound crazy. "He just ripped out his throat…" He'd stopped pressing the buttons on the keypad and looked at them. "If he really can survive a nuclear war, it wouldn't surprise me." Pressing a final button, a section of wall to his left slid down to reveal a small ladder. "That's the Dept. of Justice up there. You should be able to get in touch with someone up top."

"Thanks," Mulder said. "What are you going to do?"

"I've gotta stay down here, make sure no other freaks come through," Ulric said. "Just make sure you let someone know we're still down here," he said, as the group climbed up. "Someone who has the proper clearance," he said to Rally.

"Oh no," Pvt. Marlow said, as he came up to the sidewalk outside the Canadian Embassy. In the distance, he heard heavy gunfire, and saw smoke coming from the area behind Capitol Hill. "Guys, I think the enemy's gotten loose on the streets!"

"_Rally, where've you been!_" Surprised, Rally and May turned away from the group and acted like they were talking to each other.

"We were down in a tunnel network below-"

"_Not important,_" Anne shouted. "_The enemy is in the Capitol Building, they've already sent out a broadcast, and there are ghouls running around the in area behind the Capitol building!_"

"Since when?" May asked.

"_It's been about an hour since we lost contact with you all,_" Anne said. "_L.A. and New York are starting to stabilize and now all hell breaks loose in DC! Get to the Capitol building and-_"

"Tell me if the government has any backup system for it's nuclear codes boys," Mulder said into his phone, the Lone Gunmen quickly going to work on the other end.

"_You missed the April edition,_" Frohike said. Mulder heard the rustling of papers and the typing of keyboards in the background. "_The main two US repositories for written materials are in the National Archives and Library of Congress. If you do some searching in a few restricted areas, I'm sure you could find what you're looking for._"

"_Mulder, are you sure you have this all under control?_" Langley asked. "_The news keeps cutting away when they spend too much time on these things._"

"I'm positive Langley," Mulder said. "But I need some research. See if you guys can't look up Secret Service Agent 'Rally Vincent'."

"_**We'll try,**_" Byers said. "_**Mulder, before you do anything else, I think you should know that some of our contacts reported movement from Dreamland.**_"

"An attack?" Mulder asked, the others listening closely.

"_**Transports, but what kind, we don't know. NORAD's also overwhelmed by these things. Keep that in mind when you finally find out what's going on.**_"

"Will do boys," Mulder said, closing his phone. "So that gives us two options to pick from."

"We'll split," Redford said. "We'll take the Library, you agents take the Archives. Now that we're on the surface we should have an easier time knowing what to look for."

"We should also check Congress," Rally said, walking back over to the group. "If the fires are that way, then the enemy may be inside as well."

"Fine," Redford said, feeling his patience with the two wearing thin. "Alright, let's split here. We should keep in contact as much as possible, channel 13," he said, setting the radio on his suit. "Alright, let's move!"

The group split, Mulder, Scully and Todd running towards the Archives, Sgt. Redford and his team moving for the Library, Rally and May sprinting towards the Capitol Building.

* * *

Skinner and many of the officers who were at the White House were now moving on Stanton Park, as civilians tried to escape the enemy that was attacking them. Even after serving in 'Nam, Skinner had never seen an enemy quite like this. Only a shot to the head was any use against them. They were utterly implacable, loss of limbs and even parts of their faces unable to even faze them. The soldiers from the 222nd were fighting well, but the number of the enemy, combined with their tendency to not be effected by a gunshot wound, made their weapons and training almost useless. The fight was brutal, even as far as going to hand-to-hand in some places, the police struggling to keep the monsters from biting them. They had seen what happened if they bit you when a bite victim fell down in front of them, only to revive as they tried to save him. Looking over the scene, Skinner felt like he was in some sort of nightmare. The fires from the homes made the things look like demons, blasts of blood and bones erupting from the impact of a bullet. Police shouted out orders or for help, as the soldiers M16s cracked in the night. The flash of police lights made it look like some bizarre carnival of death.

"Director!" Turning from the line, one of his agents was waving him over. Running over, he saw the man holding a radio. "Ms. Warbucks."

"Ma'am," Skinner said, taking the radio. "What is it?"

"_Skinner, those ghouls are moving fast to the east,_" Anne said, almost like she was scolding Skinner. "_The chopper has to refuel soon, and I won't be able to give you updates as often as I like. You have to contain this, Skinner, or else the whole capitol will be overrun!_"

"I'm trying my best, ma'am, but frankly these things are kinda hard to take down!" Skinner said, raising his voice. "Unless you have a way for my people to take these things down with a single shot, I don't have many choices but to take these things as they come!"

"_Fair enough. I'll see what I can do about that. You just focus on containing these things. Anne out._"

"Hey, wait!" Skinner said, looking at the radio as it went dead. Growling, he started bellowing orders. "I need three teams to move around these things, take them out from the rear, they're spreading through the area!"

"We'll go," Holchek said. "Not like we're much good here anyway."

"Fine! Take a car, get your people to 11th St. Northeast!" Skinner said. "And move fast, these things are spreading like wildfire!"

"On it," Holchek said, rounding the squad up and grabbing three cars. Screaming down F Street, they nearly killed themselves trying to avoid civilians and other cars. By some miracle, they made it unscathed, and set up behind the cars on 11th and Maryland, as a few panicked civies fled for their lives.

"Hey Jenkins, you know how the sarge is always telling you that you can't play the song when we're on a mission?"

"Yeah," Jenkins said.

"Well I'm in charge now, and I say play the song."

Smiling, Jenkins searched the cars and found one with a CD player. Taking the disk out of a pouch he'd made special to carry it, he slid it in and cranked the volume.

"_Company, always on the run…_"

The men checked their weapons, making sure that they had their sights lined up and had enough ammo to at least make a dent. They put their grenades on the ground, ready to throw, and put claymores in place a few yards away after they were sure there weren't any more civilians. Then came the monsters. They lined up their shots, picking their targets, waiting until they were close enough, and slowly squeezed the trigger. If it weren't for their experience, they would have already been popping off shots, but they waited until just the right moment.

"_Bad company! I won't deny!_"

The assault rifles rippled in the night, the flash and crack swift mercy for the transformed. The line of ghouls dropped where they stood, as more came forward. Each round met a target, each bullet a kill. They may have been deserters, criminals and bastards, but the 222nd had the skills to make them as deadly as any Green Beret. The claymores went off, ripping bloody chunks out of the ghouls, the crump of grenades following.

"Skinner, we'll need some backup soon!" Holchek shouted into his radio. "When can we expect it!"

"_What backup, we're swamped enough as it is!_" Skinner yelled. "_You'll have to hold out until we can get to you!_"

"Roger," Holchek said with a grin. "Alright guys, it looks like we're on another suicide run! Save a round, just in case!"

"_HOOAH!_"

Running past the Capitol building, Redford and his team saw the Jefferson building surrounded by ghouls. "Sweetwater, Marlow, covering fire! Haggard, with me!" As Sweetwater and Marlow fired on the ghouls and drew their attention, Redford and Haggard went off to the side, towards the Supreme Court, the ghouls too focused on the pair firing on them. Running around the back, they made quick work of the three ghouls that were guarding the door and went inside, clearing out the first floor and running to the front, Redford helping Marlow and Sweetwater with the ghouls from the rear as Haggard watched for any others they missed. Once Sweetwater and Marlow had made it to the entrance, the four moved through the building, finding ghouls everywhere. "At least they haven't found it yet," Redford said. "Okay, Haggard, Sweetwater, you both take the left side of the building. Marlow, we'll take the right. Remember, we're looking for restricted areas, so just follow the corpses and they'll lead us right to'em."

"Got it," Sweetwater and Haggard said simultaneously, casually walking off towards the Court of Neptune. Seconds later, Redford heard the boom of Haggard's shotgun mix with the chatter of Sweetwater's SAW.

"Alright, Marlow, let's move." Leading the young soldier, Redford moved quickly through the marble halls, the ghouls inside thankfully unarmed and too busy looking for the football. Books and papers fell to the floor as Redford and Marlow moved through the building, firing at everything that moved. If a group was too large, they would simply load a 40mm grenade and fire, blasting the group to pieces. After ten minutes, they finally met back up with Haggard and Sweetwater, who were busy have a conversation on who would do a better job against the monsters, Truckasaurus Rex or Batman.

"I'm telling you, Truckasaurus would wipe the floor with these things," Haggard said, looking like an excited little kid. "His mighty fire breathing jaws would crush these things like pulp!"

"And I'm telling you that Truckasaurus needs power," Sweetwater said, as he reloaded his weapon. "Batman, on the other hand, already has enough gadgets to make his way through anything." Finished, he looked up. "Sarge, new guy! Duck!"

Throwing themselves on the floor, Redford and Marlow heard their squadmates' weapons fire, followed by the thump of bodies hitting the floor. Slowly turning their heads, they saw two of the monsters behind them, who had come out of what looked like a single bookshelf.

"I think we know what to look for now," Redford said, getting up. "Check the cases, pull out every book and press every plaque, that's about all we can do right now."

"Alright, I always wanted to do this to a library!" Haggard said, gleefully running up to a shelf and shoving an entire row onto the floor. Marlow, meanwhile, went inside the one the ghouls had come out of, checking inside. Turning on his flashlight, he saw that there was only one manila folder inside, titled, "Operation Zapata: Top Secret". Deciding it probably wasn't anything important, he turned around and went to another shelf.

* * *

Running into the National Archives, Mulder, Scully and Todd scanned the area carefully before breaking inside, clearing out the few ghouls standing in the main viewing area. Out of posterity, they made sure the Constitution and Declaration of Independence were still okay, and, seeing they were, moved towards the lower levels. Seeing most of the doors already opened, Mulder signaled it was clear for now, and the three moved through the area.

"Any idea where to look?" Mulder asked, seeing nearly identical hallways everywhere.

"Not a clue," Todd said. "My job is to guard the president, I wasn't told where the backup codes were."

"I see," Mulder said. Looking around, he started to get a strange glint in his eyes.

"Mulder, focus!" Scully said. "We're here to protect the codes, not to look for any conspiracies!"

"I know, Scully, but," he said, looking around. "Maybe there's some secret in here, some truth about what these things are-"

"Will you stop guessing and focus!" Todd said. "I think I hear the elevator coming up." Looking towards the end of the hallway, they heard the hum of an elevator coming up. Aiming their weapons at it, they waited, expecting a horde of monsters to exit. What they got was four.

Mulder, Scully and Todd plinked at the monsters with their SiG-Sauer P226 pistols, the 9mm rounds making satisfying holes in the ghouls' heads. After dropping the four, they slowly moved forward, making double taps in the head to make sure they stayed dead.

"They're down there, more of'em," Mulder said. "We should just wait here and let them come to us."

"I'll call for backup," Scully said, backing away and pulling out her cell phone, dialing AD Skinner, only to hear his voice mail answer. "Mulder, I can't reach Skinner!"

"What?" Mulder said, surprised. Then, one of the doors near the end flew open, and out streamed a storm of ghouls. Snapping forward, Mulder and Todd started firing again, as Scully reloaded. Slowly, the three backed away down the hall, the ghouls following them all the way back to the main area.

"Mulder, we can't let them out!" Scully said, seeing the mall right behind her through the doors.

"I'm thinking, Scully!" he yelled. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Scully, is your cross blessed?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what good it'll-"

"Show it to them!"

Knowing Mulder was on to something, Scully ripped the cross from her neck and held it out in front of the monsters. Instantly, they froze where they were, not willing to move any closer, a few even shielding their faces from the cross. Mulder and Todd seized the advantage, firing at the ghouls and quickly getting rid of them.

"How did you know that would work?" Todd asked, staring in shock at the floor covered in dead.

"I've investigated cases like this before," Mulder said. "Beings unable to stand the sight of any blessed or religiously significant object. I just made a bet that this would work."

"Guess we got lucky," Scully said, looking down to see one of the ghouls holding a metal briefcase. "Mulder," she said, bending down to retrieve it.

"Is that it?" he asked, as Scully pried the fingers off of it's handle.

"Whatever it is, it's valuable." She held it up so the two could see the lock on the top. "It's a key, password and electronic lock. Whatever's inside is probably more valuable than any of us."

"Then we can't let whoever did this get their hands on it," Todd said. "We should keep it here until we get an all-clear signal."

Mulder and Scully nodded, as Scully ran her finger along her cross.

* * *

"Any word?" Alana said, spinning around slowly on her chair with a smile, as J paced back and forth, the other office workers sat around keeping each other calm.

"Nothin'," J said, having stolen one of Alana's cigarettes. "But the TV's goin' on an' on about how there's a force coming up from Tribeca. If I'm right, Zed's gonna send the boys up and clear away any evidence of the refugees or anyone else who got caught up in all this."

"Aw, J, always taking his work to heart," Alana said, sauntering up to J from behind, draping her arms over his shoulders. "You need to learn to unwind."

"Hey, hey, hey!" J said, throwing her arms off and jumping away from Alana, putting his arm up in front of her, an old habit from his days in blue. "Now c'mon, Alana, just keep calm about all this."

"But J!" she whined, twisting in place on her heels. "Did you forget! I'm in it!"

Shocked, J ripped his schedule from his pocket and read it over, and saw, it was indeed, the time when the females of Alana's species were…"ready to go".

"What are you two doing over there?" one of the workers said, seeing Alana's little performance.

"Nothin'!" J said, quickly putting on a smile. "I mean, what, come on! What could we be doin' over here, ah! I mean, you know, not a private place for a little 'yeeeeeaaaaaah', know what I'm sayin'!"

"Whatever," the man said, turning back to the group huddled around the TV.

"J! What about _meeee!_" Alana whined again, J backed into a corner, seeing her creeping towards him, a hungry look on her face.

"They've passed Leonard," L said. "Only a few civilians are left in the area."

"Then now we'll gather everyone up and keep an incident from happening." Turning from the Twin's screen, Zed used his command voice to address the agents in the area. "All agents, secure your gear and grab your vehicles! I don't want any accidental neutralization of friendly personnel while we're out!" He looked them all in the eye. "Suit up!"

The agents jumped from their desks and threw on their coats, making sure their glasses and neuralizers were in place before grabbing atomizers and electrical focusers to handle any threats, as clean-up teams fueled their plasma throwers. The garage came alive with the rumbling of Cadillac engines, as a secret tunnel appeared in front of Pier 1. A long series of Cadillac sedans and armored trucks rolled out, followed by agents dressed in immaculate black suits, all wearing dark Ray-Bands. They quietly went through the streets, the people distracted by what had just happened to notice with any detail the men and women skirting through the streets in all black. The agents went block to block and building to building, taking stock of the many immigrants and refugees they were tasked with tracking. Many were fine, built in defenses in their disguises easily protecting both them and their identities. A few had even taken data on the creatures, just in case they could be used for any future problems against Earth and the MIB. Some weren't as lucky, and fearful civilians were gathered around, trying to figure out whether they were friend or foe. Agents quickly secured them and wiped the civilians. Any refugees who were lost were analyzed, any evidence destroyed by the plasma teams. Cadillacs and armored trucks moved through the streets, agents moving through office buildings and alleyways, destroying any ghouls who remained. Witnesses were quickly neuralized and sent on their way, as the refugees were sent onto trucks and taken back to MIB HQ.

Zed and L watched the progress on the monitor, as the agents filtered through the area, slowly moving up. "Any sign of J yet?" L asked.

"None," Zed answered. "Hmmm…Bob, can you trace Ivana Trump's signal?" Bob nodded, and the focus shifted from Tribeca and Wall Street to the Metropolitan Opera. "Well she wasn't supposed to be there tonight! Where was J's last reported position?" Bob entered the commands, and the view shifted to Times Square, where 43rd meet 7th. "Now scan for any refugees in the area!" Instantly, one result popped up. "Oh damn," Zed said, as L covered her mouth as she gasped. "I need a team to Crown Plaza, on the double, use the subways!"

"_On it, sir,_" Agent K said, quickly rounding up Agents X, T and Q, leading them to the tunnels, taking out the ghouls with surgical precision. K led the way, X and T on the sides, Q bringing up the rear.

"Will they make it in time?" L asked, watching the four move down the Yellow line to 42nd.

"We'll see," Zed said. "Otherwise J and anyone with him will be dead before the sun even rises.

"What exactly does Alana's species do to reproduce?" L asked, noting how everyone in the MIB talked about Alana like a tiger on a leash in the park.

"It's not how, it's what gets in," Zed answered. "Her species has been at biological war with itself for centuries," Zed said. "And over time, they've built up immunity to everything but direct injections. But what seem like harmless STDs to Alana…"

"Oh my God!" L said. "And she's in heat right now?"

"We just have to pray that J's holding his own right now," Zed answered, watching his teams spread through the city.

"C'mon J," Alana said, licking her lips seductively, the other survivors now huddled behind J, who was backed against a window. They knew Alana was a flirt, but not like this! "I need it, you know I do!"

"Yes, yes I do, Alana!" J said, half laughing, half trying to fend Alana away with a broom from the small break room. "But I also know that these people aren't ready for it!"

"Oh, J, it'll be the best moment of their lives!"

"Also the last," J mumbled.

"Okay, seriously, kid, what the _hell_ is going on!" the ex-NYPD officer said. "Alana's always been a...well, a slut! But this is nuts!"

"She's a special case," J said, poking at the air in front of him with the broom, as Alana started to drool. "Now Alana, why not just use the broom to…keep yourself busy?" Alana grabbed at the broom and tore it in half, grinning madly, inching closer.

"Oh crap," J said. "Okay, who here do you all like the least?"

"You!" they all yelled at J.

"Oh, thanks a lot!" J said. Knowing that the situation was desperate enough, he pulled the Cricket from his pocket and aimed at Alana.

"You wouldn't!" she yelled manically. "I'm too important to my daddy to kill!"

"Well, these people are too important to me to let you do…whatever to them!"

"Like they matter!" Alana laughed, now steaming drool landing in puddles on the carpeting. "You humans can just make more, it doesn't take long! Only eighteen of your years, right? A few missing mature and ripe ones won't be noticed in a mess like this!"

"But I'm valuable," J said. "You lose me, and Zed convinces daddy dearest that you should be sent back to fight! And that won't work for you, will it?"

With a hiss, Alana circled back to her cubicle, as the other office workers kept behind J, staring at either him or the weapon.

"Who are you?" the ex-cop asked, looking over the Cricket and J. "Really, you reek too much of the street after that."

"I told you," J said, shakily taking out a fake I.D. "Division Six, your best kept secret."

Not willing to argue with the man who just saved their lives, the old cop nodded, watching as Alana started to pile office furniture around her cube.

* * *

The ghouls had spread to 155th street, the police cordons on the many bridges along the river struggling desperately to keep the monsters either on Manhattan Island or push them into the water. Ammo was plentiful, and SWAT officers had gathered at many of the bridges, having rushed from their homes in the suburbs to positions on the bridges. The 155th was a scene typical of it all, police and even members of the 69th Infantry, gathered on the bridges, trying to keep the ghouls from advancing on their families. Then the Port Richmond cruiser pulled up.

"Oh damn, did something happen to the north?" one of the officers yelled over the gunfire.

"Don't think so!" Det. John McClane yelled, running over to the car, stopping in his tracks when he saw the three most infamous vigilantes in recent history stepping out, a wind rustling their peacoats. "Oh Christ, you've gotta be kidding me!"

"We're not here to make trouble," the oldest of the three said. "We're here to help, to assist in saving the people of this city from these monsters!"

"The situation is under control!" McClane yelled. "A force of NYPD and auxiliary forces are moving up from Tribeca to secure the city from the bottom up!"

"But these monsters could break through," the old man said. "We only want to help, not harm the innocent."

"Hey detective! They're starting to break through!"

"Aw, Christ!" McClane yelled, looking over the Saints and cursing. "Shit! Alright, you three come with me! I'll be watching you all, so don't even try doing something stupid, got it?"

"Agreed," the three said, walking with McClane towards the barricade. The other cops' fire slowly tapered off, watching the three men almost glide towards the cars and cement dividers, jumping over them to see a mob of ghouls coming for them. Without a word, they pulled their weapons, three men, two Beretta pistols each. The odds weren't even funny.

The Saints fired away, 9mm rounds dropping ghouls left and right, their bodies falling over the side rails and disintegrating into the river below. The police slowly followed behind, McClane screaming and bellowing orders, as two police radioed their partners on the other bridges. The national guardsmen stayed behind, both because jurisdiction was still unclear, and because if something went wrong, they needed at the very least a speed bump against the enemy. As they crossed the bridge to the other side, the few scattered civilians remaining cried out in disbelief or joy, as the Saints shot their way to Broadway. The police followed behind, frantically radioing for contact or information. They breezed through Trinity Cemetary, a few of the officers shooting at graves out of fear. Il Duce turned and addressed them for that.

"These people rest in peace," he said, in a low, disappointed voice. "Don't dishonor them by disturbing it."

"More important things to focus on, pal!" McClane said, firing on a ghoul dressed in a FDNY shirt. "_Guess it was bound to happen sooner or later,_" McClane thought, scratching his now balding head. Regaining his composure, he went on behind the Saints, as the trio prayed throughout the violence.

* * *

"Hey Sarge! Check this out!" Sweetwater yelled, running towards where Redford, Haggard and Marlow were comparing notes. "I was looking around in of the shelves, right? You know, looking for the code an' everything, when I found this!" Excitedly, he held a small map up to his comrades faces.

"So what is it?" Marlow asked, Redford and Haggard blankly staring at the paper.

"A map, Preston!" Sweetwater said. "Those tunnels we just came out of? There's a secret gold reserve inside! We just have to find it!"

"Forget it, Sweetwater," Redford said, shaking his head. "We're soldiers in the Army, not cheap mercenaries in it for the cash. We're professionals, so start acting like it."

"Where is it?" Haggard asked, now looking over Sweetwater's shoulder, completely ignoring Redford.

"Well, according to this here map, the stash is down under the Robert A. Taft memorial," Sweetwater said, pointing to a symbol on the map. "We can make a straight shot at it, grab some gold, and get back before anyone even knows we're gone!"

"Did either of you just hear me!" Redford shouted. "We're not going after any gold, that's final!"

"How much is in there?" Haggard asked.

"More than enough for all of us," Sweetwater said. "Three bars each should set us up for life."

"What life!" Redford yelled. "I'm the only one who'll have a life soon!"

"That hurt, Sarge," Haggard said, both he and Sweetwater looking hurt.

"What do you mean?" Marlow asked, Haggard sighing and scratching the back of his head.

"Well, Preston, when you were transferred to Bad Company, did they ever tell you for how long?"

"No…wait, you don't mean-"

"Exactly," Sweetwater said. "We're in B-Company for the rest of our service. Sarge here, he gets out because he volunteered, but us? Hell, we'd be lucky to make it back to corporal."

"What do you mean!" Marlow said, a little scared now. "We can't get any promotions?"

"Oh, don't get it wrong, we can get small promotions," Haggard said. "But I was a SM. before I got sent to Bad Company."

"Same here," Sweetwater said, holding the map up against the lights. "SSgt who once typed up storms in an office all day, now a private toting a SAW. That's what happens when you get sent to B-Company. Army's modern day penal battalion."

"Will you two lay off!" Redford barked. "We aren't going after that gold! We're finished searching the library! Sweetwater, you put that map back! Haggard, Marlow, you secure the exit! We're going back to the agents at the archives!"

"That reminds me, what did you do to get this post, Preston?" Sweetwater asked, as the four walked out.

"I…I crashed a helicopter."

"Aw, that's it?" Haggard said, disappointed. "That don't sound like anything special."

"After taking it up without clearance, and plowing it into a general's staff car."

"And that would explain everything," Haggard said, opening the door. "Now that you've told your story, you're officially a part of Bad Company kid."

"I hope that approval fills him with shame," Redford said, as the four ran to the archives.

* * *

"I want all National Guard units near the affected areas readied to move in and assist with the cleanup immediately," Thurmond said, as his aides and base personnel rushed back and forth, a small bank of phones set up on the table.

"The 27th is having trouble getting organized, sir," Thurmond's aide said. "The 40th is trying to get the 79th together and get them up to Escondido. Their commander says that the 41st and 81st are also en route."

"And New York?" Thurmond asked.

"The 69th is gathered at the bridges, their commander was forced to split them up due to the nature of the attack. They've been ordered to support law enforcement until the unit is fully gathered."

"What about D.C.?"

"The 79th commander has as many people has as many men as possible organized and waiting for orders at the D.C. armory."

"Tell him to get those forces down Constitution to cordon off the area and prevent the enemy forces from spreading further, tell him to get as many civilians to safety as possible!"

"On it, sir," the aide said, calling up the commander of the 79th. As he did, Thurmond leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes furiously. Sitting back up normally, he looked down and noticed the Latin underneath the Area 51 insignia, a runway with a hangar to the left and control tower on the right. Over the hangar was a black helicopter, to the right was a walker moving towards the tower. Taking off from the runway was a triangle shaped craft, the rumored "Aurora" spy plane. All of them had searchlights combing the patch. On the top of the patch, "Area 51". On the bottom, Thurmond read aloud, "Occulte Genero Admiratio."

"In Secret, Create Wonders," Quaritch said, walking into the room. "The riesigs have landed in L.A., they're meeting up with agents and surviving police forces at Dodgers stadium."

"And NORAD?"

"The _Rats_ are ten minutes out. We'll have Congressman Hastert out before morning."

"Good…very good." Turning back to the papers, Quaritch gave a rather loud cough. Looking annoyed, and more than exhausted. "Yes, Colonel."

"Sir, I would just like to speak with you off to the side for a minute," Quaritch said. Telling his aides to keep working, Thurmond went to the side to talk with Quaritch.

"Quaritch, I need to focus, and I can't do that while I'm talking to you."

"I realize this, sir, so I'll make this as brief as I can." Quaritch took a small drink of water before moving on. "Sir, I need you to give the order to the National Guard units that will move on Los Angeles to confiscate any and all cameras they find where the walkers have gone through."

"You're not serious," Thurmond said in a fierce whisper. "Right now our priority is to save as many people as possible!"

"And I agree completely, sir," Quaritch said calmly. "But we also have to think about the future, and I only put out the walkers because you directly ordered me to. But those walkers are decades ahead of what our enemies have, and we have to keep them under wraps until the time is right."

"This is not the time to worry about keeping secrets!" Thurmond said.

"It is actually a very good time to worry about secrets," Quaritch said, standing his ground. "Governments have just as much right to secrecy as people do in their private lives. Our secrets are just a little more important to the stability of the world."

"You know there's an FBI agent who'll disagree with that train of thought," Thurmond said. "As for myself, I think it'd be a rather good idea to use some of these technologies against our enemies in the open as soon as possible, make them know what we have after this is all over."

"I'd advise against that sir," Quaritch said with a warning tone. "You're not a small time FBI agent, you're currently the president of the US. Under calmer situations, you'd have been told exactly how valuable secrecy is for this country. Those walkers you had more order out were to be used in the event that China makes a bid for dominance, or the Russians break up completely and we have to go in and restore order. If even one picture comes out about those walkers, then our foes will start coming up with countermeasures against us, and our advantage disappears."

"So protect the people by lying to them."

Quaritch nodded. "Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, sir."

"So where is the line?" Thurmond asked. "Or is there a line?"

"The line is where the government decides to draw it," Quaritch said. "It's where you decide to draw it."

"All I know is that secrecy flew out the window the minute Nazis started attacking London," Quaritch said. "So tell me this. Have you found out why one of my most trusted aides decided to betray me?"

"This woman," Quaritch said, walking over to one of his men and taking a sheaf of papers from the man. On the top was a picture of an aged black woman. "Her name is-"

"Is this where you bring up the pot and the kettle?" Thurmond said, rubbing his eyes again. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll give the order to the units being sent in to Los Angeles. Now what about England, what's the news?"

"EUCOM has come back with reports that all communication is down in the English interior. Paris is also having problems, but there are reports of paramilitary forces taking care of the situation at the Eifel tower. There are also reports that the Swiss Guard are keeping house in Rome."

"Have all available ships in the Atlantic Fleet moved to the English channel, and put Ramstein on alert, have them on station to support any naval efforts in aid to Britain. Order them to contact whatever forces they can, we need to contact anyone to coordinate a response, England is the clear main target of whoever did this."

"Of course, sir," Quaritch said. "I'll also put the aurora on station over England to keep a track on things."

"Of course."

"Sir, the Mexican president is on the line, he wants to know if there's anything he can do to assist."

"Excuse me Quaritch," Thurmond said, going over to the table. "Tell him that all I want is a secure border, for both of us, I don't want any foreign forces over the border unless I specifically ask!"

"Clever, sir," one of Quaritch's officers said. "So who gave you that information?"

"Ms. Warbucks, of course," Quaritch said. "Shred and burn the papers. The old man'll figure this out in his own time."

"On it, sir," the lieutenant said, quickly shoving the papers into a shredder.

* * *

On a C-27J Spartan transport on approach to the air field at Fort Carson, a flight of thirty airmen were completing their final equipment check for their breach into the now sealed NORAD. They carried as many weapons as they could, each one perfectly suited for fighting for fighting in close quarters. Voss Light Assault Rifles, equipped with the Herzog Shotgun. Turcotte Submachine Guns, firing .38 caliber rounds at nearly a thousand rounds a minute. Clark 15 shotguns with flechette rounds, perfect for through flesh. Massive P33 Pereira revolvers, .50 caliber revolvers with a kick like a mule and a sound like a bomb. Three members of the squad had with them three HOFF-3000 plasma cutting torches, perfect for breaching think doors, actually based to breach doors like the blast doors at NORAD.

"Alright, boys, we're coming in, so let's go over the plan one more time," Lt. Cepil barked. "Mr. Hastert is our top priority in this mission, all other concerns are secondary, even base personnel."

"What about this thing inside, sir?" SSgt. Hough asked, checking the chamber on his Voss.

"It's like anything else, shoot it until it's dead."

"Secrecy?" Snr. Airman Sutter said.

"Not as important as the teams in L.A.," Cepil answered. "These are fellow airmen, they know how important this will be."

"Do we have any other orders?" Airman Carp asked.

"Just to save the VIP and get back pronto." With that, Cepil slid the magazines into his Voss, and sat down, as the pilot announced they were coming in to land.

Down at the base, the same humvees that had taken Hastert and the others to the base sat idling at the tarmac, waiting to hear some news from anyone, or at least anything good. As the plane touched down, they sped to the cargo bay, where the airmen hurried out and into the humvees, and were then quickly taken to the base, the soldiers staring at the odd weapons the airmen held. Minutes later they were at the base, where a team of welders was working feverishly to make some small crack in the blast doors. Quickly shoving the soldiers aside, Cepil waved the men with the cutters over.

"Um, sir?" one of the soldiers said, seeing the small cutters. "With all due respect, those don't look like they'll do much against those doors."

Cepil didn't answer, but gave a small nod to the men with the torches. With a single pull of the trigger on the cutters, sharp, thin jets of plasma started melting the metal doors, liquid metal falling to the ground with hissing splats. The soldiers just watched, seeing how quickly the airmen sliced through the metal. Working their way up the door, they slowly moved to the sides of the area they were cutting, a six foot tall metal rectangle forming in the cut area. As they neared the top of the door, Cepil had his men attach large chains to the door, and ran them to the humvees, attaching them. As the metal started to weaken, Cepil waved to the humvees, who knew to take off at full speed. The small section of door started to inch forward, slowly. After about a half hour of waiting (and getting an M88 to help), the door finally slid out, five ghouls following it. Cepil's team took them out with ease, the steam from the still cooling door and the dim lighting inside adding a supernatural aspect to it. A few of the soldiers and NORAD airmen were shaking a little.

"Let's go," Cepil said, almost bored. His team moved fast, taking their positions inside and clearing the way for the others, FRG-1 grenades blasting in the corridors. The bodies of the ghouls were turned to pulp by the heavy fire the team put out, the small groups of airmen following behind shocked by the carnage.

"Don't know why they're having so much trouble with these things," Sutter said, using his Clark to maximum effect. "These things can't shoot or move."

"That's because these are the low level ones," Cepil said, throwing a grenade down the hall. "I actually kinda wish we were in England right now."

"No thanks, sir," Hough said, his SMG chattering down the corridor. "Nazis and zombies do not go together well."

"Yeah, it does sound kinda like a cheap gimmick," Cepil said, switching to the shotgun. "Ardary, see if you can't contact Gen. Hammond, tell him support's here."

"On it, sir!" Airman Ardary said, grabbing a nearby phone and dialing at random, finally getting a hold of someone who could connect him.

* * *

"Sir, we've got forces from Area 51!" the tech sergeant at the command center said, as the other staff ran about with weapons they barely ever used. "They say they're going to ensure the safety of Mr. Hastert."

"I specifically ordered no one to come inside until those doors were opened!" Hammond barked.

"They were ordered to by Sen. Thurmond, sir, he the president right now."

"Of course," Hammond said. "Alert SG-2, tell them they're ordered to secure Mr. Hastert. SG-1 is to meet up with the forces in corridor 5-D and assist them in holding back the enemy."

"On it, sir," the tech sergeant said, calling in SG-2 from their position in the infirmary.

"We're doing what!" O'Neil said, as soon as SG-2 arrived at the door.

"Orders from the general, Colonel, you're to assist the forces on the upper levels in holding this…thing off."

"Of course," O'Neil said. "Alright, sir, good luck, I promise, we will come back and make sure you're safe when this is all over."

"Please do," Hastert said, shaking life a leaf. The night had taken a toll on him, and the inconsistent reports from the news seemed to make things worse. Sometimes not knowing was worse than knowing the wrong information.

* * *

"C'mon!" O'Neil barked to the team. Sprinting, they ran from the very bottom level to 5-D, just in time to see an airman thrown clear through the air and against a bulkhead, blood oozing from the back of his head. But SG-1 had been through much worse, knowing exactly what to do. Teal'c and O'Neil fired on the hall, seeing a mass of…things coming towards them, as Carter and Daniel checked the wounded man.

"He's bleeding heavily, we have to get him to the infirmary!"

"But where's the rest of his team!" Jackson shouted over the gunfire.

"Out there," Teal'c said calmy. Looking over, Daniel saw that the man's buddies had been turned into the same monsters that had attacked them, seconds before O'Neil put an end to them.

"Jack, what are you doing!" Daniel yelled. "We could cure them, maybe find a way to get them back to normal!"

"We're not on a mission, Daniel, it's do or die time!" O'Neil shouted. "Get that man to the infirmary and get back here, that's an order!"

Daniel was frozen where he was. He'd never heard Jack shout like that before, especially to his teammates. The joking, playful O'Neil was gone. The military man had taken over.

"C'mon Daniel, you have to help me!" Sam barked. Nodding, Daniel did as he was told, he and Sam taking the man under the arms and carrying him to Dr. Frasier.

"There is another here, O'Neil," Teal'c said. "I can feel him. He's behind those things."

"Then we'll just have to flush him out!" O'Neil said, pulling a grenade, ripping out the pin and throwing it to the back of the mob. A loud crump, and a good chunk of the back disappeared, falling to the floor with vaporized legs. Teal'c took only semi-auto shots, his aim like a laser. The monsters fell like sacks of rocks, like puppets with the strings cut.

"We will not have enough ammunition, O'Neil," Teal'c said monotone. "We will have to fall back."

"Then let's leave a little present behind!" O'Neil shouted, shooting at a steam line on the ceiling. The scalding vapor cooked the front most ghouls instantly, disintegrating them. Smiling, O'Neil turned and ran away from the infirmary, towards the gate room, Teal'c following. "I did now know that would work," Teal'c said, as the hiss of the steam faded.

"You know me," O'Neil said. "Always gotta be ready to improvise."

Agent ordered his ghouls in that tunnel to stop, and quickly he branched out with his senses. Stopping his other body as it was trying to break through a steel door to handled the new bodies that had come inside the base, moving through his ghouls like they were nothing. Checking his watch, he cursed. It was already midnight, and he'd barely gotten halfway through the base. Sure, he'd expected a fight, but for an "Chair Force" base to put up resistance like this? "_What is you secret,_" he thought, sending one body to take care of the new intruders, while the other pursued the two bastards down 5-D.

* * *

**One last thing. I have a little poll I'm running on my page for an idea I had, so please, give a vote, and I'll see what I can do about creating it. Remember, highest votes get the win, so make your voice heard!**


	14. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

As soon as the ghouls passed the Bedford Logde, the men behind the makeshift barriacades at the edge of the town opened fire, striking a few of the ghouls. But since many in England still had little experience with firearms, their shots were woefully inadequate. Even the police, who should have had at least some training with the weapons, were having trouble. The only men who really seemed to be making a dent were Mendez, P.C. Angel, and P.C. Butterman.

"Aw, shit!" Mendez cursed. "How're the other positions?" he asked Angel, as he reloaded the last clip he had into his M16.

"The teams at Snailwell said the only fighting is here," Angel said. "Similar reports from the team at the 1063."

"Christ, he's really doing this," Mendez whispered. "Alright, as soon as I give the word, we'll start pulling back into the town! Once that starts, radio the two other teams, tell them to swing around from the rear and pick off as many of the enemy as they can!"

"Got it," Angel said, rising from behind a wrecked Smart car and firing his shotgun into the ghouls, his sunglasses glinting in the streetlights.

"Gaw, just like _House of the Dead_!" P.C. Butterman said with glee, firing into the ghouls with his partner. When Locke said that Butterman was every bit as good at the job as Angel, he'd pulled a double take. But so far, the rather large P.C. had done as good a job as Locke had promised. If they were lucky, Mendez and Figgins would be on their way home before the morning even arrived. "So how many of these things are there again?"

"An entire base's worth," Mendez said. "Alright, we should start falling back now, pull these bastards in!"

"Got it," Angel said. "Danny, come with me."

"Right!" Butterman said, as he and his partner ran off. Looking back over his cover, Mendez took two more shots before ordering the other men to get back. "All of you, get back to the next position!"

The men did as ordered, quickly breaking from their cover and running as fast as they could. As they ran, the ghouls kept firing, men falling as they hurried to the next position. The ghouls just marched forward, stepping over the barricades and obstacles put in their way. Flares on the road lit the monsters up, miniature suns shining on their decaying and bloodied faces, their dead eyes glassy in the light of the phosphorous. Some of the civilians were frightened beyond reason, dropping the weapons they had volunteered to shoulder and ran for their lives, other blindly firing away into the mass of ghouls. They were shot up, and the unlucky ones that survived the bullets pulled into the mass and fed on until there was nothing but bones left.

"Now you'll learn your lesson, yank," Walton said with a grin, as his forces marched through the area. "Now, 1st Squadron, move to the right flank, and get rid of that papist school!" The ghouls in the unit groaned in answer, shuffling on their way towards the right, inadvertently running into the barricades that were supposed to attack from the rear. Unprepared for the enemy, they panicked, the police doing their best to hold things together, as the civilians screamed and fled.

"Radio," Mendez said, grabbing it as Angel handed it over. "Alright, flanking teams, they're funneled down the street, hit'em!"

"_Roger!_" the team on the Police right said, as they ran from their positions on Vicarage Rd. to the High St. intersection, firing into the ghouls.

"What the hell?" Walton said, ducking at the sound of the gunfire. Growling, he saw the police and civilians coming towards his forces from his left. "Isn't that cute," he said, as his he mentally ordered the ghouls nearest to him to face the left. "They tried to set a trap. Maybe they should see what happens when they make such a foolish decision." Charging ahead of the ghouls, he leaped into the police and civilians, drinking more of his fill for the night.

"They're certainly taking their time," Angel grunted, firing at the ghouls. The street was starting to actually clog with bodies, ghouls climbing over each others' corpses to press forward. The police kept firing, but were starting to notice that their clips were shrinking in number.

"Give'em time, it won't be like snapping your fingers," Mendez said, picking his targets carefully now. 27 rounds left in his 16, and three clips from his Beretta. "_Odds are against the home team_," he thought. "Butterman, can you get back to the station and scrounge up some more ammo?"

"Will do," Butterman said, running a few feet, and stopping when a body landed in front of him on the road. "Jesus, its Messenger!"

Turning, Angel and Mendez saw a man's body lying in the street, it's throat destroyed and it's arms ripped away.

"My God," Angel said. "He was on the right…"

"Damnit!" Mendez shouted. "Butterman, get moving! Angel, you cap him in the head, make sure he's dead!"

"Right!" both men said, Butterman jumping over Messenger's body, as Angel walked up with his gun ready, as Messenger's body started to twitch. "I'm forgive you for misspelling my name," Angel said, firing two rounds into Messenger's head, then running back to Mendez.

Throwing the doors to the station open, Butterman ran to the back rooms, into the armory, gathering up as many clips of ammo as he could. Running towards the door, he collided with Locke, who was going from phone to phone, checking for any contact with the rest of the world. "Damnit, Danny, watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, sir!" Butterman said, gathering up the clips and running out the door again. Shaking his head, Locke saw the therapist coming down the stairs.

"Any progress with the airman?" he asked.

"None," the therapist answered, rubbing his forehead. "Poor man suffered a hell of a shock, and we both know I'm not well versed enough to handle such a deep emotional hit. What about the phones, have we had any luck with them?"

"Well, some of my people have called relatives out in the country, and they've been the best source we have to know what's happening. But the government?" Locke shook his head. "They may as well not exist."

"Lovely," the therapist said, finding a chair and sinking into it. Looking up at a nearby clock he saw it was about 5:30 in the morning. "Bloody winter…these things couldn't have picked a better time to attack, could they?"

"Not that it really matters," Locke said. "They're like vampires, aren't they? Then we just need to hold out until sunlight. After all," he said, looking out towards the barricades. "They can't kill all of us before then, right?" The therapist didn't answer.

* * *

"So what are we doing again, exactly?" Vincenzo asked, as Mahon led the pair to the rectory.

"I'm surprised you can't pick up on it," O'Connor said. "Raju's just the kind of guy we both love to hate."

"You mean a fundamentalist? Yeah, I hate them, no duh. But I don't follow why we're going up here."

"Neither do I, officer," Mahon said. Thankfully, Raju had agreed to let the three move through the cathedral, under the concern of "security". "Why do you wish to see our records?"

"Because something about Raju still isn't clicking right with me, and I want to know what."

"Here we are," Mahon said, opening the door to the cathedral's records room. "What is it you are looking for, exactly?" he asked, taking out a key that opened the files kept in locked file cabinets.

"Raju's some kind of hero in this Iscariot, right?" O'Connor asked. Mahon nodded. "Well, you all work in teams, usually, right? Except for the most capable?"

"Of course," Mahon said. "We only send out our most capable agents alone."

"Right. But Raju is backed up by you three, right?"

"Correct," Mahon said, opening the cabinet and looking for the file.

"I still don't follow," Vincenzo said, rubbing his face vigorously to keep awake. "What does any of this have to do with Fr. Fruitcake down there?"

"Think, Vincenzo," O'Connor said, taking Raju's file from Mahon. "What's the one guy every precinct and station has that everyone tolerates only because they're a cop?" Letting Vincenzo stew on the question, O'Connor ran down the list of missions Raju had been assigned. "_Mumbai: Fr. Raju, Sister Helen Thomas, Fr. Hans Gottlieb. Target: Rakshasha. Target eliminated, Fr. Gottlieb and Sister Thomas killed in service of the Lord. Raju promoted. Kashmir: Fr. Raju, Fr. William Harris and Fr. Abdul Nahir. Target: Djinn unleashed by Islamic militants. Target eliminated, Fr. Harris and Fr. Nahir killed in the service of the Lord._" "Christ," O'Connor whispered.

"The bragger," Vincenzo finally said. "The one who always tries to make himself the big dog."

"No," Mahon said, shaking his head. "Iscariot's work is dangerous, we have no room for such pride or lies."

"But you said it yourself, it's only a human organization," O'Connor said. "And these reports say Raju was the only survivor of pretty much all the operations he's been sent on. No one else left to contradict the reports if they're all dead."

"But no one joins Iscariot unless they want to do God's work!" Mahon said. O'Connor looked at Vincenzo and nodded slightly. It was never pretty when a role model or personal hero was called out for a person, and if Mahon was acting this way, O'Connor and Vincenzo were stepping on some damn thin ice.

"Listen, father, be reasonable," Vincenzo said. "We only have Raju's word on this stuff. Maybe if we could get him to the side later on, talk this over, we can get to the bottom of all this."

"Yes, that's probably for the best," Mahon said. "Thank you, officers, I'll…I need to lie down."

"Sure," O'Connor said, making sure to place both Vincenzo and himself in front of the way they had come, making sure Mahon didn't get any funny ideas. As soon as Mahon got to what they presumed was his room, they started talking again. "Oh yeah, Raju's definitely a bragger, I can Goddamn smell it now."

"Agreed," Vincenzo said. "But we can't exactly walk down there and slap the cuffs on him, can we?"

"Nope," O'Connor said. "And we don't know when those troops they were talking about earlier will get here."

"We don't even know how calm those troops'll be," Vincenzo said. "For all we know, they're as fanatical as the rest of these Iscariot nuts."

"What time is it?" O'Connor said, stifling a yawn.

"Bout…half past midnight," Vincenzo said, looking at his watch. "Why?"

"Vampires, genius," O'Connor said. "If everything still goes to hell, we just have to hole up in a safe spot and wait for the sun to come up.

"Ah, of course," Vincenzo said. "Makes you wish we'd paid more attention to _Dracula_ for your summer book reports, huh?"

"This from the guy who said he failed English Comp," O'Connor chuckled, as the pair walked through the building, now focused on what they said they were doing.

* * *

Mahon sat on the edge of his bed, trying to sort everything out. Raju a liar and a coward? But what about outside the cathedral earlier? Hadn't he been at the front, firing into the ghouls with as much zeal as the others, making himself an obvious target?

"_Then why won't he strike at the ghouls outside now?_" a small voice in his head said. "_Even if we ran out of rounds, it's not like the ghouls could get in. We'd be bait to draw the ghouls to one target, where they'd be destroyed by the Sons and Hibernians._"

"He's thinking about what might happen if they get inside," Mahon said to himself. "What would happen if the ghouls made it inside and killed us all? Then it's just more fuel to the fire."

"_And his files?_" the voice said. "_You must admit it is odd that, even with his teams constantly killed off, he not only kept surviving, but getting better and better posts because of it. Maybe he just knows how to spin the situation._"

"No!" Mahon shouted, standing up. "Mons. Raju is a good man, he would never lie in such a way!"

"_Maybe, but we do know this. He was ready to kill a man for simply being of another religion, and he's got a cathedral's worth of people under his sway. The last time any religious had that sort of power, crusades were launched. Remember that._" Finished, the voice simply quieted down, leaving Mahon to his thoughts.

* * *

As the cathedral finished singing _Ave Maria,_ Raju stood and went to the pulpit again. "My flock, it is a dark time indeed," he said, looking downcast and almost defeated. "This once great city has been brought to heel, by monsters and demons. And do you know why?" He looked, and saw a few of the congregation shaking their heads, like schoolchildren waiting for the answer. "It is because this nation is weak," he said, slowly raising his voice. "It is because they have forgotten the power the Lord gives, the power He, in his might, can bestow upon the righteous!" Some of those in the pews backed away, frightened by the sudden rise in Raju's voice. But a few leaned forward, intent on hearing more. "Did any of you wonder why this started in Times Square? Because it is the center of all the sins of this nation! Lust, gluttony, greed, it is all there! And it is what overran this city! Only by believing in the Lord Jesus, and his most divine church, will there be salvation!"

"Oh man, this isn't good," one of the younger Iscariots said. The two had been standing by one of the many shrines inside the cathedral, acting like they were going over plans for what to do next. "He's gone completely Old Testament now."

"Well, what can we do?" his partner said, staring at the crowd. "He's our superior, we can't just go against him that easily."

"But he's out of control!" the first priest whispered. "We guard against monsters, we don't launch crusades unless we're ordered!"

"News flash, Maxwell's already sent a crusade to England," the second priest said. "Who's to say he won't send it to the rest of the world?"

The first priest let out a low whistle. "So basically we just wait for it to hit the fan?"

"Pretty much," the second priest said. "Listen, I'm gonna help with the doors. Maybe you should check with the other priests, make sure they're still okay."

"Got it. Good luck," the first priest said, as the two split, as Raju kept going on about the wrath of God.

* * *

"We almost there yet!" Murtaugh shouted, turning off the Hollywood Freeway and onto the Harbor Freeway. "We're running low on gas."

"Almost, don't worry!" Deadpool said, reloading. "We're just in time too!"

"To keep the people from becoming dinner, right?" Riggs said.

"That, and the pacing we've set up will hopefully coincide with a big reveal from the original material," Deadpool said.

"Whatever," Murtaugh said, turning off into Chinatown. Driving off the freeway, they took a right from N. Hill street onto Yale, and Deadpool screamed "STOP!"

"Jesus!" Murtaugh yelled, slamming on the brakes. Looking to their right, they saw Deadpool walking towards the doors of a dimly lit door to a small shop wedged between two other buildings. "This is the pet shop?"

"Yup! Just follow me, things should be sorted out pretty quick." Throwing the doors open, Deadpool led Murtaugh and Riggs down the stairs, into an already cramped room filled with animals and humans. "Yo, D! What's new, my always effeminate friend!"

Turning from his tea, D's face turned into a grimace at the sight of Deadpool. "What are you doing back here, Mr. Wilson!" he shouted. "Every time you come to my shop, you cause even more destruction! What is it you want now, a Javan rhinoceros so that you can kill it and sell it's horn to a mad dictator?"

"Nah, already did that," Deadpool said, shoving a pair of cats that had taken up space on the edge of one of D's couches to the floor and taking the spot for himself. "I'm just here because I thought you could help with solving this little problem."

"He can't," Leon said. "This bastard'll make you pull your hair out, I know."

"Not like you're much better," Riggs said, bounding over to Orcot and embracing his fellow detective. "Glad to see you're in one piece, buddy!"

"Glad to see you too, Riggs!" Orcot laughed. "Murtaugh, c'mon, what're you waiting at the stairs for?"

"Because we were led here by a nut in a costume, and I for one do not trust people in strange outfits who carry guns around to be safe people!"

"He's got a point," Riggs said. "C'mon, Orcot, the streets are pretty clear up there, we'll have a little talk."

"Good," Orcot said. "I need to talk to you about a few things as well," Orcot said, shooting a fast look at D before following the pair up the stairs, the residents of Chinatown thanking D for taking them in before walking up themselves. With most of them up the stairs, Deadpool's smile quickly turned to a frown, and he grabbed D by his shirt.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING SENDING A KID UP THERE!" Deadpool shouted. "Don't you know the military's got helicopters ready to shoot that thing you've got him up there with to bits?"

"It always amazes me how you manage to know things no one else ever should," D said, removing Deadpool's hands from his shirt and sitting back down on his couch, taking his tea in hand. "After all, you know my shop has more protection than you can get past."

"What, you mean like him?" Deadpool said, pointing at Tetsu. "Seriously, he won't eat me, he knows I taste horrible!"

"He really does," Tetsu said, he and D both knowing Deadpool could somehow see them for who they really were. "Besides, if we did go after him, he'd destroy half the shop."

"Regardless," D said. "I assure you, Deadpool, young Chris is perfectly safe as long as Honlon is with him."

"Yeah, but I don't think Honlon knows how to deal with helicopters, walkers, and a gun nut who was ready to survive World War III," Deadpool said, almost bored. "But, you know me! Talk, talk, talk! Who else have you managed to kill through negligence, you girlish fairy!"

* * *

"Glad you guys came by," Orcot said, lighting up. "I was about ready to go nuts down there."

"Looked like it," Murtaugh said. "Was that the Count D guy you're always talking about?"

"Damn straight," Orcot said. "And whoever that guy is, he's guilty of murder, trafficking, and God knows what else." He blew out a long stream of smoke. "What's it been like up here?"

"As far as control goes? We're screwed," Riggs said. "We haven't heard anything from any other precincts or stations, and those things are hell to take out. Plus there's that thing up in the sky."

"What thing in the sky?" Orcot asked, taking another deep breath of nicotine.

"Well…it was long," Murtaugh said. "And it moved like a snake."

"Only it was flying, see?" Riggs said. "And it looked like it had-"

"Three heads?" Orcot said quietly, like he was in shock.

"Yeah, hey, how'd you know?" Riggs asked.

"Oh God…" he said. "Listen, we have to get to that thing now, my little brother's with it, and I need to make sure he's safe!"

"Hey now, easy, Leon," Murtaugh said, putting a hand on the younger detective's shoulders. "I understand you're feeling stressed right now, believe me, we all are," Murtaugh said, his tone heavy after having to listen to Deadpool go on, and on, and on, and on, and on some more. "But you can't just go charging after everything you see…what the hell?" Looking down, Murtaugh and the others felt the ground start to quake beneath them, steadying themselves on the pet shop.

"Is it an earthquake?" Leon shouted.

"No way, there's something making this!" Riggs said. "And it's coming this way."

Looking down Yale, the three saw a giant metal shape speeding towards them, firing at a mass of the monsters.

"The hell is that!" Murtaugh shouted.

"Whatever it is, it looks friendly!" Riggs laughed. "I say we go to it and find out if it knows anything." Not waiting for Murtaugh or Orcot to answer, he ran over, waving his arms and jumping up and down, flashing his badge.

"Sir, I've got a civilian…no wait, a police officer, he's coming towards us, I think he wants to talk."

"Then let's talk," Eckhart said, stopping the walker and opening the hatch. The middle section of the walker popped open, and Eckhart climbed to the ground, as Cole remained in the walker. "You guys cops?"

"Yeah, here's my badge," Riggs said, busy looking over the walker, as Murtaugh and Orcot ran over. "Oh man, I love this thing right here…are those chain guns 25mils?"

"Damn straight," Eckhart said. "Alright, I guess you guys didn't get the news. We're gathering as many people as we can at Dodger's Stadium, we're forming our main HQ for taking back the city there."

"Then we'd better get moving," Murtaugh said. "Riggs, get the car, and drag that freak with you!"

"Freak?" Eckhart said his ears perking up. "What freak?"

"Some madman who's dressed in red and running around guns blazing," Murtaugh said with disgust. "Thinks he's some kinda superhero."

"Really," Eckhart said. "I think I'd like to meet this guy."

"Sure, as soon as you tell us your name," Riggs said. "You do have a name, right?"

"Smith," Eckhart said. "Just Smith."

"Fair 'nough, Mr. Smith. He's over this way, just follow us." As Eckhart motioned Cole to keep the walker ready, Riggs led the way back to the shop. Then, as they got to the door, a giant bald eagle burst from the roof, Deadpool screaming with happiness and excitement.

"Look at me, I'm Stephen Colbert!" he yelled, hanging on for dear life.

"Stop him!" D shouted, coming up the stairs. "He's stolen a rare bird of mine, you have to get it back!"

"So you're finally coming to the cops for help, huh?" Orcot said with a wide grin. "I didn't think I'd like this day, but it's starting to grow on me." He scowled. "Now tell me exactly where my brother is!"

"I told you, he's safe! As long as he is with Honlon, no harm will come to him!"

"And who's Honlon?" Eckhart asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The one who's actually trying to save the city!" D shouted. With shock, Eckhart grabbed the radio on his suit. "Cole, we need to get a message to the hawks, tell them there's a kid on that thing!"

"_On it!_" Cole said from the walker.

"What do you mean? What are they going to do?" Orcot said. Then, he looked up, all of them hearing a helicopter landing at the stadium.

"Just get in the car!" Eckhart shouted. The four did, and Riggs hit the gas, speeding towards the stadium.

* * *

"Took you long enough," Burt said, hoping aboard the chopper with Chuck, Val, Earl and Patty. "Is it still in the drainage basin?"

"Hasn't moved since, sir," the co-pilot said, as the chopper lifted off, and the team strapped itself in. Wasting no time, the pilot drove the bird into the sky, guiding it back towards the ditch where the other blackhawks had surrounded the dragon. As it faded into the distance, Riggs and the others pulled up. Quickly showing their ID's, they ran for the only officer whose name they really knew, Powell.

"Riggs, Murtaugh, what are you both doing here?" he asked, seeing them out of breath. "I'm glad you're alive and all, but what took you-"

"Where'd that helicopter go!" Eckhart shouted.

"To Compton!" Powell said, taken back a little by the outburst. "They're gonna take out that UFO everyone's been seeing. Good thing too, it's been shooting lightning all over the damn city."

"There's a kid with it!" Murtaugh shouted.

"And how do you know that?" Linus said, walking up before Powell had a chance to respond. "Do you know what that thing is?"

"All we know is that the person who does released it, and put a kid up with it!" Eckhart shouted. "And if they land one stray shot, that kid's gonna die!"

"Who told you this?" Marcie asked, taking out her own version of Anne's PDA.

"Count D," Orcot said. Nodding, Marcie typed the name in, and seconds later, a profile popped up, no picture attached, but with flashing red letters that read, "Cryptid trafficker".

"Alright, we'll contact the helicopter that just took off, hold on."

"That's not good enough!" Riggs shouted. "Orcot, Rog, we're taking the car!" Nodding with him, the three ran for the car before Powell or anyone else could say a work and took off.

"Shit," Eckhart said. "Cole, get the unit together, we'll rendezvous at mission junction," he said, checking his watch. 10:45. "_Had to volunteer, didn't ya, genius?_" he thought, hearing Cole report that the ghouls had taken over everything from Wilshire Center to West Hollywood.

"So what's the plan, just shoot down Long Beach?" Orcot said, checking his revolver.

"Unless you've got a better one," Riggs said, speeding onto the aforementioned freeway, pushing the car past 120.

"The important thing is whether we can beat the chopper," Murtaugh said. "And I don't think we can do that."

"We can try!" Riggs laughed, pressing his whole weight on the accelerator.

* * *

"What is it, Marcie?" Chuck said, pressing his earpiece close.

"_Sir, we've gotten some more information on the target,_" she said. "_Information says it came from a local cryptid trafficker, known only as 'Count D'. We believe he's put it under the control of a small boy as well, we think the child is in the same area as the cryptid._"

"Pilot, did any of the other helicopters notice a person on the UFO?"

"Riding it? No sir, all we saw was it bucking and weaving, we never saw anyone actually on it."

"The child isn't on the cryptid, Marcie, he probably in the area. We'll set down and spread out to look for him while Mr. Gummer takes care of it."

"_Affirmative, sir. We'll be here if you need us._"

Looking up at the helicopters, Chris clutched tightly to Junrei. He kept telling himself that the soldiers in the helicopters didn't know he was there, that was why they had started shooting at Junrei and her sisters. After all, they'd never seen a little girl flying through the sky shooting lightning bolts before!

"**They should run out of fuel soon,**" Kanan growled with pleasure. "**When they do, I say we take them down!**"

"_No! They're still the good guys, Kanan! You don't hurt the good guys!_" Chris said, bonking her on the head.

"He's still right, sister," Shuko said. "You shouldn't be so hasty in this fight. We have to keep Chris safe now, that's the only thing we can worry about."

"**Then what about that new one coming towards us!**" Kanan barked. Listening carefully, the other two heads did indeed hear a new sound closing on them, a new helicopter.

"Here's the plan," Chuck said, as the chopper slowed to hover atop Kelly Park. "Earl, Val, Patty and myself will rope down and search the area for the boy. Burt, you'll take that thing on from the chopper!"

"Roger!" Burt said, the helicopter hovering above the small park.

"Okay, do either of you know how to fast rope?" Patty asked.

"Fast what?" Val asked. Shaking her head and smiling, Patty grabbed some of the rope and tied it around Val and Earl's waists, and shoved them out, the pair screaming as they fell. Counting down, Patty pulled the ropes at the last second, tieing the lines off, leaving Val and Earl hanging a foot above the ground.

"You're enjoying pushing them out of aircraft a little too much," Burt said, as she and Chuck attached their belays.

"Hey, gotta have a little fun somehow!" Patty said with a laugh, as she and Chuck roped down to the two. Untying the two, Patty got an earful from the handymen.

"The hell is wrong with you, woman!" Earl shouted. "You gettin' some kinda sick thrill outta pushin' us out of perfectly good aircraft!"

"Aw, lighten up!" she said, as Val landed face first on the ground after she untied him. "Sides, we have to go and save that kid!"

"Earl, you go with Patty. Val, you're with me," Chuck said, detaching his belay.

"As long as she don't push me out of anything else!" Earl said, following her as she ran to Alondra Blvd. "So where do we start looking for this kid anyway?" Earl asked.

"Well, where would you be if you were a kid with control over a monster?" Patty said.

"I wouldn't know, I make my living exploiting the monsters."

"He's probably on the back of the reservoir, hiding in the shadows somewhere!" Patty said. "Chuck's gonna take the other end, and we'll just go until we find him." Running to the edge of the concrete canyon that bisected the area, the two paused, seeing the monster well for the first time. It's golden scales reflected even the smallest light, it's three heads wriggling around like snakes. Whiskers floated in the air around the heads, as it's body curled on itself to keep under the overpass.

"Jesus," Earl whispered. "I hope Burt knows what he's doing."

* * *

On the opposite side of the overpass, Val and Chuck searched the bushes, Val's eyes constantly going back to the monster. "Gawd," he said. "And that thing took on a gatling gun?"

"Damn straight," Chuck said. "Good grief, where is this kid! If he was able to control a monster like this, he'd need to be nearby in order to keep in psychic contact."

"Psychic powers? Now you're just pulling my chain," Val said, turning back to look at the dragon, and seeing Burt's helicopter level itself with the underside of the overpass. Then, he noticed one of the heads wasn't moving as much as the other two, turned back on itself. "Hey, did they mention how old the kids was?"

"No, why?" Chuck asked, still stomping through bushes.

"Could a kid hide under that thing's head?" Val said, suddenly very frightened.

Looking over, Chuck saw what Val was talking about. Raising his rifle, he looked down the scope to see the faintest shadow of something beneath the creature's massive head. He grabbed at his radio.

* * *

As the chopper settled into position, Burt lined up the shot on the angriest looking head, sliding the round into the chamber. Kneeling inside the cabin of the hawk, he rested his left elbow on his knee, slowing his breathing, bringing his heart rate under control. Letting out a breath, he squeezed the trigger, and the rifle bucked in his hands.

"Kanan, look out!" Shuko shouted, shifting her head to the right and stopping the bullet before it could hit her sister. But the grizzly was made for creatures who were hard to kill, and Shuko was knocked out, her head hanging loosely between her sisters.

"_Shuko!_" Chris shouted.

"**That's it!**" Kanan growled. "**The humans die!**" she said, breaking from the tunnel towards Burt.

"She's coming at us still, break, break!" Burt shouted, the chopper pilot pulling up and away, as the chopper with the gatling gun came close and opened up, raking the dragon with fire. The other choppers flew away as well, flying in front of and around each other, doing their best to confuse the monster. Kanan tried to keep track of the choppers, but she kept losing their black shapes in the darkness of the night, flying higher and higher.

"We should go lower!" Junrei shouted, noticing that Kanan was going and going, as Chris held on for dear life. "We have to keep Chris safe!"

"**We can't do that if these bastards keep shooting at us!**" Kanan shouted. Then, a bullet struck her in the eye, and she roared, a bolt of lightning escaping her lips, her bucking so bad that Chris lost his grip, falling off the dragon and straight to earth.

The car skidded to a halt, and the three detectives jumped out to see the monster shooting lightning at the helicopters, Orcot unable to see his brother. Then, the dragon seemed to jump, like it had been shocked, and a small shape started falling.

"CHRIS!" he yelled, running to the drainage canal, Riggs and Murtaugh following as best they could to keep up.

Chris wasn't screaming, at least not out loud. His face was a pained grimace of sheer terror. He kept falling and falling, the ground coming ever closer. He flailed his arms, his mind working desperately on cartoon logic at this point, thinking that by flapping his arms over and over, he could somehow slow himself enough to save his life. He closed his eyes, and started wishing he could just float away. Then, he felt an arm across his stomach. Carefully, he opened one of his eyes, and saw he was soaring across the neighborhood again. Looking over, he saw he was being held on the right arm of a man wearing a weird red and black outfit, who was riding on a giant bald eagle!

"Heh, let's see Mr. Colbert do that!" he said, pulling Chris close. "You okay kid?"

"_Yeah, but who are you?_" Chris asked, a little afraid.

"Wade Wilson, but most folks call me Deadpool," he said, nudging what Chris saw as a man with pure white hair behind the neck.

"I swear I'll kill you for this, Wilson!" he shouted, Deadpool kicking him behind the right side of the neck some more. "You idiot! I can talk!"

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Deadpool said with a grin.

"**ARGH!**" Kanan said, shifing around in the air. "**I'll kill those humans!**"

Then, she felt little bullets bouncing off her hide. Spinning around, she saw on the ground three small humans, each firing on her. "**I'll start with them!**" she shouted, speeding in on the three.

"Riggs, this isn't a good idea!" Murtaugh yelled, seeing that two of the three heads were still awake, and one was very angry. "We should be running!"

"Shut up, Murtaugh!" Orcot screamed, reloading his revolver. "I'm killing that damn thing!"

"We aren't trying to kill it!" Riggs shouted. "We're trying to distract it from the choppers so they can get more shots in!"

"Whatever!" Orcot said, as the dragon closed.

"Oh boy, this isn't going to end well," Deadpool said, leaning forward to see what was going on at the edge of the basin. "Pilot, take us closer!"

"_Is that…Leon?_" Chris said, surprised to see his brother shooting at Shuko and her sisters. "_What's he doing!_"

"I think he's about to get killed," Deadpool said calmly, as Kanan charged closer and closer to the trio.

"Alright, let's move!" Riggs said, he and Murtaugh breaking and running for the nearby buildings. But Orcot stayed where he was, plinking away with his S&W.

"Orcot, what're you doing!" Riggs yelled, firing off a few rounds. "Get moving man, you're gonna die if you stay there!"

Orcot just stood his ground, waiting for the dragon to get close enough so he could plug as many times as he could in the head.

"_No…No, we have to save him!_" Chris yelled.

"Are you crazy?" Eagle shouted. "Kanan would rip us to shreds!"

Kanan closed on Orcot, as Riggs and Murtaugh fired on the monster and called for Orcot to come to his senses and run. Orcot, for his part, checked his revolver, before facing at Kanan and aiming for the head.

"_Leon, run, get out of there!_" Chris yelled, his mouth silently working. For his part, Deadpool had already pulled out a bag of popcorn and started chowing down.

"This is awesome!" he said, munching on the buttery goodness.

"Hey, gimme some!" Eagle yelled, trying to angle his head so he could grab the bag from the mercenary.

"_Leon, I'm up here, I'm fine!_" Chris shouted, his mouth slowly forming the letters. Kanan was 100 yards now. Ninety. Eighty. "_Look up, I'm up here!_" Seventy. "_LEON!_" A bolt of lightning struck just before Leon's feet. He didn't flinch. "_LEON!_" Leon started firing.

"_**LEON!**_"

Junrei looked back at Chris, then at the man, and with all her might, pulled Kanan to the left, towards Riggs cover. Riggs quickly jumped ran from the dragon, as it barreled past, threatening to pull Riggs along from the updraft, as it ploughed through an office building, smashing it to glass and concrete. Orcot just stood where he was, looking up at the giant eagle at his brother, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"He spoke…" Leon said, his smile covering half his face. "He finally talked! Riggs, Murtaugh, my brother can talk again! Chris can talk again!"

"Swell," Riggs said, brushing himself off. "Now what about that thing?" he said, pointing nervously to the writhing gold snake, as the helicopters slowly surrounded the monster from the air.

"**W-What are you thinking!**" Kanan grumbled, shaking rubble from her head. "**I could've killed that little bastard where he stood!**"

"That's Chris' brother!" Junrei said, frantically trying to keep her sister occupied before she could do anything else stupid. "What would D say if we killed him?"

"**He wouldn't care, he never cares!**" Kanan shouted. "**Why should he care about one more human!**"

"Because this one's special, he just is!" Junrei whined, as the helicopters circled around.

"Ground floor, ladies underwear, men's underwear and plot points!" Deadpool said, guiding the eagle to the ground, Chris jumping off and running over to Leon, the brother's taking each other in their arms, crying as they did.

"Leon, I'm sorry, I didn't know Kanan would do that," Chris said, crying over his brother's shoulder.

"You can talk, oh God, you can talk again," Leon said, smiling as he cried. "I'm glad to hear you talk again, Chris."

Eagle sneered, then looked to see Deadpool dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. "What are you crying for?"

"Because we've reached the halfway point in the story," he said. "And I'm almost done my work for my paycheck for this crap."

"You really are nuts," Eagle said, making a snatch with his beak for the popcorn, Deadpool pulling it away.

"Too slow," he said, shoving another handful into his mouth…somehow.

"Are you alright buddy!" Patty said, her, Earl, Val and Chuck running across the overpass. "We thought you weren't going to make it with that thing coming at you!"

"Nah, I'm fine," Leon said, finally wiping his tears away and standing up. "But who are you guys, anyway?"

"Government agents, officer," Chuck said, pulling out some fake credentials. "We were ordered to move in and help to secure the city."

"Glad you made it," he said. "And you," he said, walking over to Deadpool, sticking out his hand. "Thanks for saving my brother."

"Glad I could help," Deadpool said, shaking Orcot's hand with his own butter-covered one. "Now, could you," he pointed at Chuck. "Please explain to them," he pointed at the cops. "What we're doing now?"

"Of course," Chuck said, finally looking away from Deadpool. "Now that we have our field base set up at Dodger's stadium, we can finally move through the city and clear it out, as well as find the one who did this."

"Oh, come on," Riggs said. "You don't really think it's gonna be that easy."

"It won't, make no mistake about it," Chuck said. "Even after we kill all the ghouls, we still have to make sure the vampire we're looking for is eliminated-"

"What?" the cops said. "Vampires?"

"He's not joking, trust us," Val said. "You know these things are something else, and you know it's gonna take something special to take'em out."

"But vampires? What's next?" Murtaugh said, finally snapping. "Werewolves, mummies, hell, a giant shark!" Kanan growled in the background, making them all jump.

"May I suggest we straighten this all out now," Deadpool said. "Chris, I think you should go over and talk to her."

"Me?" Chris said, shaking, Leon moving in to protect his brother. "But that thing's dangerous! It's shooting lightning and everything!"

"It'll listen, just trust me!" Deadpool said, everyone glaring at him. "What?"

"Chris, did D send you out here?" Leon asked, turning his brother away.

"Yeah, with Shuko and her sisters!" Chris said.

"And when you were out there, did Shuko listen to you?"

"Yeah, she did! Why?"

Leon didn't answer, he just looked over at the dragon that was quickly piecing itself together. "Chris, come with me," he said, leading Chris over towards the wrecked building.

"Hey, what's Orcot doing?" Riggs said, looking over to see the detective walking his brother towards the dragon. "Wrong way Leon!"

Leon didn't answer, he just kept walking Chris and himself towards the monster.

"Steady the hawk, I'm taking another shot!" Burt said, sliding another round into the chamber. As the hawk slowed, he sighted another one of the monster's heads, waiting for the shaking of the hawk to become more manageable.

"_Gummer, hold your fire, we have two civies entering the area!_" Looking up from his scope at the radio call, he leaned out the chopper to see that there were indeed two figures walking towards the monsters, almost determined to reach it.

"What the hell are they doing!" Burt shouted, as the two got closer and closer.

Chris was frightened beyond belief, seeing the massive dragon his and bare it's teeth at the circling helicopters. He wanted to run, to sprint away and never look back in his life. He tried to back away, but he felt the hand of Leon on his back. Looking up at his brother, he looked for any kind of sign that he could run, but Leon felt that Chris had stopped, and looked down, and gave a small grin and a nod. "It'll be okay, Chris. I'm right here behind you. Always will be." Chris nodded, and kept ahead of his brother, almost marching at the monster. "Chris, what was the name of that…person you were with."

"They're sisters," Chris said. "Shuko, Kanan and Junrei."

"Okay Chris, I want you to follow me on this one," Leon said, stopping Chris a few yards from the monster. "I want you to call out all three of their names, okay?"

"Why?" Chris asked.

"Just trust me on this, okay?" Leon said, looking right into into Chris' eyes.

Chris gulped. "O-O-Okay," Chris said, turning to face the monster. "SHUKO! KANAN! JUNREI! CAN YOU HEAR ME!"

One of the heads on the dragon turned, a calmer looking head, raising it's eyes in surprise.

"Kanan, Chris is okay!" Junrei said, smiling. "Don't attack those men, otherwise Chris won't like it!"

"**I don't care!**" Kanan shouted. "**Unless he actually tells me not to, I'm going to!**"

"Leon…is that…"

"Yep," Leon said, recognizing the dragon from when he and D had been forced to steal it from the house. "That angry one, tell it to stop."

"Alright," Chris said. "KANAN! DON'T HURT THOSE SOLDIERS!"

Kanan froze, and cursed the contract D had signed with the boy. Slithering over, she glared at Leon, then at Chris, her breathing like a strong wind to the two, Chris clinging to Leon to keep from being blown away. The second head just stared at the two, looking worried. Kanan snorted and turned away, Junrei making her way in. Putting her head close to the ground, he did her best to look Chris in the eye, making sure he was okay. Slowly, Chris moved towards her, Leon keeping his hand on his weapon just in case. Putting his hand out, Chris put it on Junrei's nose, and felt the shock that this dragon was the very girl that he had been flying on earlier. But slowly, he went closer, and finally gave Junrei a hug. Junrei just kept her head low, smiling. "Thanks for saving him, Junrei," he said, Junrei gently grunting as answer.

"So the kid had control the whole time," Patty said. "I'm guessing there's something special about the guy who let this thing out."

"You have no idea," Deadpool said, sticking the empty bag over Eagle's head. "So should we get to securing the city, or are we gonna let the person who did this get away with this?" he said, as Burt's helicopter landed nearby.

* * *

"_Harris, this is Bloom, the Ghostbusters are nearing your position, what's your status, over?_"

"We're still holding here, Bloom," Harris said, noting that the ghouls had started to taper off about twenty minutes ago. "We're waiting on you guys now, but we're low on ammo and we've got men down, tell them to pick it up!"

"_Roger, just hold your position until we can get there._" With that, Bloom cut the connection. Ten minutes later, a platoon of Shomrim arrived, a golem leading the way. The clay man cleared the way for the Hibos and Sons to escape, as the ghouls tried to kill it.

"Cmdr. Harris, A.O.H.!"

"_Samal _Kohlberg," the man said, as the Shomrim took up firing positions to cover the area. "Glad to see not all the Vatican went crazy."

"What're you talking about?" DeFilipo asked, as his men made their way by.

"You guys didn't hear?" Kohlberg asked. "Word is a buncha choppers just left from France, all with the Papal seal. People on the English coast said they saw some crazy bastard on some pope mobile thing hanging from a Chinook, screaming about crusades and judgment day."

"Christ, they didn't stop him," Harris said. "I hope those English know what they're doing, cause it's gonna get ugly."

"Yeah, let's focus on the now, shall we?" DeFilipo said, as the last of the men funneled by. "So where do we line up?"

"Anywhere there's space, sir," Kohlberg said. "The center of the line is where Canal meets Broadway. Once we're all lined up again, we'll start moving."

"Alright, you heard him boys, let's pick it up!" Harris shouted.

"The Ghostbusters, have they got anything on this?" DeFilipo asked.

"They're the ones at the center, sir."

"We need to talk with them, I don't think they know about the whole situation."

"Agreed," Harris said, running with DeFilipo and Kohlberg to the Ghostbusters.

* * *

"So an Irishman, an Italian and a Jew walk into a bar," Venkman said, as the line paused in order to reform with the reinforcements.

"No time for jokes now, Venkman, I'm reading something critical on the PKE," Ray said, holding his goggles and meter up. "It looks like a large mass of energy, powerful enough to be readable from Times Square."

"Possibly the vampire?" Egon asked.

"Unlikely, and probably a lot worse. A lot of people have died tonight, gentlemen, let's face facts. And if I'm right, a lot of their PK energy will be rearing to go. I hope I'm wrong, but that energy could be the coalesced force of all the people who have died in New York alone."

"The twinke's burst, hasn't it, Ray?" Winston asked.

"Big time," Ray answered, taking the goggles off.

"Then we'd getter nip this one before it goes too far then," Venkman said. "Is the line all formed up?"

"Not yet," Finneman said, lighting a cigarette. "We have to wait for the Catholics to get in position, until then we're holding."

"Got it," Ray said, when three men came running up, panting hard and grabbing hold of Ecto-1. "And you are…"

"Commander…Harris…AOH…" the man with the beret said.

"Commander…Defilipo…Sons…" the khaki man said, standing with his arms over his head.

"You two are the leaders of the reinforcements?" Winston asked.

"Damn…straight," Harris said, standing up. "We have too…tell you about something important…these ghouls…killing off the vampire won't kill them."

"What!" Egon said. "But the grimory said-"

"It's an old book," DeFilipo said. "Outdated information. Someone found a way to make a vamp without worrying about the ghouls going bye-bye."

"Any idea who?" Winston asked.

"No idea," Harris answered. "But I know we're not doing much just standing around, we've gotta move. Our men are getting set up now, just say when," Harris said to Finneman.

"Good job guys," he said, sticking his hand out and shaking the Catholic's hands. "Let's roll on up to Times Square then!"

Formed, the line was amazing. Rifle cracks and the pop of pistols made a symphony in the night, as flamethrowers and flares made the night come alive with dancing shadows. Ghouls melted or burned away to ash, neat little headshots or great gaping exit wound disappeared when the ghouls were torched. There were fewer survivors now, and the roads were getting crowded with monsters.

"Are we really gonna have enough ammo to make it all the way to Times Square?" Harris yelled. "There's tons of these things!"

"I dunno," Finneman said, seeing more and more ghouls coming towards the line. "But we can't lose it now, the whole city'll be overrun if we lose!"

"I've got it!" Venkman shouted, as Winston launched one of his few remaining rockets at the ghouls. "Ray, what you said about blessed objects, how far does that carry!"

"Tell us your plan, Peter, we don't have time to guess!" Winston shouted, reloading.

"Firetrucks! We need firetrucks!" Peter yelled. "Tell the ambulance to get on the horn with every station it can find, we have to get as many firetrucks and priests and rabbis out here as possible!"

"I get it now!" Ray shouted. "Venkman, that's genius, it's bound to work!"

"What's bound to work!" DeFilipo shouted, firing at a group of onrushing ghouls.

"Blessed objects, sir! They have similar properties to our proton packs! If we get some fire trucks up here, bless them and the hydrants, and then open up the hoses-"

"We can melt these things in nothing flat! That's brilliant!" Finneman yelled. "I'll get the rabbi and the ambulance, you guys just stay here!" Quick as a flash he was gone, minutes later coming back.

"Okay, the EMTs are on the radio now, they're squawking to everyone they can find that they need to grab a priest of rabbi or whatever and get over here!"

"Great job, sir!" Ray said. "With their help, we can probably reach Times Square before morning!"

And what about the vampire?" DeFilipo barked, reloading.

"We'll capture him in a proton stream and you can ask him whatever you want, Commander," Ray said. "All we ask is that we get a chance to study him afterwords-"

"No possible way!" the three commanders said as one. That was enough to force Ray back to his position in the line, as the Commanders called it to halt to wait for the FDNY.

* * *

**Phew! Hey guys, an early Christmas gift for you all, in the form of a new chapter! So what's next you ask? Why, break of course! So while you're lounging about, reading the story, how about dropping me a review, huh...What happened, Wilson?**

***Covered in feathers outfit torn up*** Eagle decided he wanted to popcorn bad.

**That's what you get Wilson. Anyway guys, please R&R, and spread the Christmas cheer.**


	15. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

"Rally, what do we do?" May said. "That…whatever he is, he's holed up like a fat cat, we can't dig him out at all!" May said, as the pair looked past the columns at the front of the Capitol Building into the darkness. "Plus, I don't have any explosives, so it's not like we can trap him anywhere!"

"We'll just have to think of something creative," Rally said, taking out the clip of silver bullets in her 75. Slipping it back in, she eyed the doors. "Anne's chopper is probably gonna go back and refuel by now, we'll be going blind. We can't let that FBI agent see this either, he'll probably get a whole mess of things mixed up that we can't afford."

"What about those soldiers?" May asked.

"I'd rather have Becky here instead," Rally mumbled. Pressing her finger to her ear, she called Anne. "Hera, this is Artemis, we are outside Olympus, need update, over."

"_Artemis, target is still holed up in Olympus. Football is not yet detected. Spartans and hopolites are holding enemy at bay, do not let target grab the football, over. I'm going in for refueling, just keep the enemy from getting the football, over._"

"Roger, Hera, Artemis out." Nodding to May, they ran up the steps of the Capitol, ducking behind the potted plants before the door, seeing it splashed with blood and left open, distant moans coming from inside. Sneaking forward, the two paused and angled a small mirror inside. Peering at it, Rally saw little. The lights were destroyed, guns barely catching the little light that shone inside the entrance. Slowly, the two pair moved inside, weapons up, scanning for any movement. The two moved like ghosts, shadows inside of shadows, as they found a source of light inside what was usually the meeting room for the House of Representatives. Slinking forward, they edged towards the door, and heard a man inside ranting and raving.

"…the nerve of them!" he shouted. "To cut me off when I'm trying to help them all, it's unbelievable!" Motioning they get a little closer with her hands, the two peered in with the mirror and saw Morgan pacing around like a caged animal, ghouls standing around, some on cameras, other just standing guard, weapons ready.

"Think he broadcast something?" May whispered, Rally putting the mirror back.

"Don't think it worked," Rally said. "But he hasn't found the football yet, so we can presume that the agents and soldiers didn't let his ghouls get their hands on it." She looked towards the door again. "May, do you think that you can find any kind of explosives in the interior armory?"

"Just get me to it and I'll see what I can do," May said, a mischievous grin on her face.

* * *

"Seriously, Sarge, we have to get at it!" Haggard said. "That gold is our best chance at _something_ different!"

"We're not getting the gold, Haggard, that's final!" Redford shouted, as the four walked across the national mall towards the archives. "That's the government's in case of national emergency, it's not for us to grab an' go!"

"But Sarge, can't we just take at least _one_ little bar each?" Sweetwater said, lagging behind the group noticeably. "I mean, what's the worse we can do by that?"

"I don't know, and don't careGET DOWN!" Redford shouted, ducking as bullets whizzed towards their position. Looking towards the National Gallery of Art, he saw at least a half dozen figures coming towards them, some armed, all dead. "Sweetwater, get that SAW talking!"

"It's jammed!" Sweetwater shouted, pulling desperately at the breech. "We're really up it now Sarge!"

"I still got this!" Haggard shouted, pulling out a block of plastique with a detonator attached. "Just flip it when they get to us and take'em all to hell!"

"Not before I retire, Haggard!" Redford shouted. "Now just shoot, before I decide that we're not worth dying here!"

Out of nowhere, a mighty roar sounded across the grass, and a large shadow leaped over the group and into the monsters. With a flash of claws and white teeth, heads rolled and limbs fell, as the ghouls tried to fire at it.

"Holy…what was that, Sarge!" Marlow shouted, as a hand landed in front of them.

"I don't wanna find out," Redford said. "Let's go boys, 'fore that thing decides it's still hungry!"

"Way to go Hobbes!" said a young voice. Turning, the four soldiers saw a boy and girl running towards them, the girl huddled close to the boy, huddled close in fear, as the boy charged forward with a small water gun and a carboard box in his hands.

"What the hell are those kids doing here!" Haggard shouted. "We've gotta get them outta there, Sarge!"

"Agreed! Marlow, you get those kids outta there, we'll handle that…thing."

"Got it," Marlow barked, running towards the kids.

"Calvin, we should go back!" Susie cried, watching what she was told was Hobbes rip and tear into the monsters to pieces. "Hobbes doesn't need us here at all!"

"But we have to!" Calvin shouted. "He told me that he'll need us in case anything goes wrong!" Looking back, he saw one of the soldiers coming towards him. "Hey, Mr. Soldier, don't worry, you'll be fine now!"

"C'mon kids, we've gotta get you outta here," the soldier said. "I don't know how you got out of here, but we've gotta get you back. Now come on, you'll be back with your families before morning!"

"Um…thanks, mister, but we're _HEY!_" Calvin shouted, being dragged back from the fight by the soldier, Susie gladly following.

"Alright, that's it for you freaks," Hobbes said, as the last ghoul's body collapsed onto the grass of the National Mall. Turning around, he flinched when bullets started hitting the ground around him. "What the heck?"

"Yo, furball!" Redford shouted, firing at the animal. "Fresh meat, right here, c'mon an' get it!"

"Sarge, I'm putting in for hazard pay for this!"

"Shut it, Sweetwater!" Redford shouted, as Haggard started shooting. Getting a better look, Redford saw it was a tiger, a big one to. It's green eyes glinted in the little surrounding light, it's fur stained with blood and fluid. Keeping his own fear in check, he fired again at the tiger.

"Hey, let me go!" Calvin said, hitting the soldier's arm and kicking his legs. "I have to go back there and help Hobbes!"

"I know you think you're trying to help, kid, but leave this to the pros," Marlow said, ignoring the hits. "Trust me, the best place for both of you is a safe place!"

"Listen to him, Calvin!" the little girl shouted. "He's a soldier, he knows what to do when it's dangerous!"

"Hobbes knows what he's doing too!" Calvin shouted back, still dragging his box and water gun. "So let me go, you, or I'll shoot!"

"I doubt that little thing'll do much damage," Marlow said. "Now just YEARGH!" he shouted, feeling an intense heat on his back. Dropping both of the kids' hands, he dropped to the ground and started rolling around.

"Calvin, what are you thinking!" Susie shouted. "That's a soldier!"

"Well Hobbes is my friend!" Calvin said. Turning, he froze. The other soldiers were shooting at Hobbes, and Calvin could see his friend being hurt. "_HOBBES!_"

Looking from the soldiers to Calvin's yell, Hobbes saw that one of the soldiers was trying to take both Susie and Calvin away. With a growl, he charged forward, only to feel something land on his back and something stabbing into his side.

"Take this, you overgrown cat!" Redford yelled, gripping to the animal's side with one hand and tearing into it's right side with his knife. "Keep shooting it!"

"You'll get hit too!" Sweetwater yelled, as Haggard tried to get closer. The animal was angry now, using it's left paw to try and kill Redford, before finally just rolling over onto it's back, Redford screaming as he fell into the ground.

"Sarge!" Sweetwater yelled, going to pull at the animal, but kept back by it's swinging claws. Then, Sweetwater got a better look, and backed up and bent down.

"Sweets, what're you doing!" Haggard shouted, taking kicks at the tiger's side. "We've gotta get the Sarge up!"

"Hags, this isn't a real tiger!" Sweetwater said. "When we shoot him, all that's coming out is cotton!"

"What the hell are you talking about!" Redford grunted, doing his best to keep the tiger's full weight off of his own body. "This don't feel like cotton on top of me!"

"Hobbes!" Looking over, Sweetwater and Haggard saw that one of the kids was running towards them, Marlow rolling around on the ground, the girl hitting him with her hands. "Get away from him, you jerks!"

"Not now, kid, we've gotta get the Sarge outta here!" Haggard said, still kicking at Hobbes.

"Calvin, don't even try!" Hobbes said, Sweetwater, Haggard, and Redford all looking at the tiger.

"Did the tiger just talk?" Sweetwater said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Probably nerves gas…" Redford said, still trying to get the tiger off his body. "Now can someone please get this giant furball offa me!"

"Hey, I wouldn't start insulting me, pal, not when I can crush you like a bug!"

"Hobbes, get offa him, you goofball!" Calvin said, running over and pushing his friend as best he could off the sergeant. "He's still a soldier, we have to let him help somehow!"

"Sarge!" Marlow said, running over, Susie clinging to his leg. "Sarge, the girl explained it to me…kinda. The kid and tiger are on our side, they already took care of some ghouls that made it out of the tunnels into Logan Circle. That thing…the tiger, he's a good guy."

"A little late for that, considering they've already shot me fulla holes," Hobbes said, motioning with a paw to the multiple holes in his side. "Calvin, think you can explain these to your mom?"

"Maybe I can tell her I found a gun in the woods…" Calvin said, rubbing his chin, as Hobbes rolled off of Redford.

"Glad we've gotten to know each other," Redford said, taking a deep breath. "Now you mind telling me what you did to my man?"

"Flamethrower," Calvin said, almost bored, as he pulled the trigger on the water gun and had it shoot out a long get of flame, Haggard and Sweetwater jumping away with a yelp.

"Holy God," Redford said. "How did you do that? That's a plastic water gun, it should melt from the heat alone!"

"I modified it," Calvin said with a smile. "It's all very technical, but the basic gist is that it'll light those ghouls up like a firecracker!"

"Like my back," Marlow said bitterly. "Now can we please get to the archives and the football?"

"Agreed," Redford said, regaining his strength. "Kids, furball, you're with us, got it?"

"Deal," Calvin said, sticking out his hand, Redford shaking.

"Calvin, you sure about this?" Hobbes said, eyeing the soldiers. "These guys might be good, but they're still military."

"You sayin' we're not professional?" Haggard said, walking up to Hobbes. "What took you so long to get here, mister Disney reject?"

"Hey, I've got way to much self-respect to work with Disney!" Hobbes said, Susie facepalming.

"Look, bottom line, we've gotta work together to get through the night, okay?" Redford said. "Now follow us, we've gotta make sure the football's safe."

"Why are we so worried about a football?" Susie said, staying close to Marlow. "Isn't it more important to make sure people are okay?"

"If we don't make sure that the football hasn't been taken to the enemy, none of us'll be okay." Redford said.

"You see, little girl, the football is a codename," Sweetwater said as they moved across the grass. "What the football really is are the codes for America's nuclear weapons. And if the bad guys get their hands on it-"

"Then they can destroy the world!" Calvin said, shocked.

"Yup," Haggard said. "Though I have to say that I've always wanted to see a nuke go off up close."

"Don't listen to him kids, he's a nut who blew up half an Army base," Redford said. "He's damn lucky no one was killed."

"Awesome!" Calvin shouted, riding atop Hobbes. "Can you blow up my school too?" Redford just facepalmed. Minutes later, they arrived at the main entrance to the Archives, seeing Agent Todd standing outside. "Thunder!" Redford shouted.

"I have no idea what that means, sergeant," Agent Todd answered. "Agents Mulder and Scully are inside, they've got the football secure." Then Hobbes and Calvin came around the corner, and Todd drew her weapon, not sure whether to fire. "What the hell!"

"Don't ask, Todd," Redford said, trudging up the steps, his little band following close. Soon, Haggard and Sweetwater watched over the kids, Marlow and Todd watched the entrance, and Redford, Mulder and Scully talked things over.

"Far as I can tell, these things are getting more contained," Redford said. "These things are still out there, and probably still in the tunnels, but they're not roaming the streets like they own the place."

"At least the football's secured," Scully said, still holding her cross in her hands. "Should we go to support the agents at the Capitol building?"

"I'm still debating that," Redford said. "And now that those two kids are here, I'm a little worried about them getting caught up in this. I don't want any more innocent lives lost."

"Agreed," Mulder said. "But I still don't think we can trust them fully with this. What if you and your team stay with the football while we go look after the two mystery agents?"

"Risky. If they really are deep cover moles, you'd be putting yourselves in pretty deep danger, wouldn't you?"

"We also have to consider the possibility that these things have infected a larger portion of the population, and we still don't know how far they've spread, if at all."

"Let me try and contact my squad, see if they're still alive." Grabbing his radio, Redford quickly started talking. "Bravo One Actual to Bravo One, come in Bravo One. Anyone still alive out there?"

"_Sarge…Holchek here…here…you…ver?_"

"Damn, connections pretty bad," Redford said. "Holchek, your connection's bad, I need your location and status, over!"

"_Roge…11__th__…Achusetts…ghouls closing…o one injur…inally played the son…icked ass!_"

"They're about eight blocks behind the Capitol," Scully said. "If we take out Morgan fast enough we can go help them!"

"Agreed," Redford said, Mulder noting the concern in his voice. It was the sign that despite their problems, Redford's men were still his men, apocalypse be damned. "Okay, I've got a plan. Us three take the tiger and get to the Capitol, find out what's really going on. Meanwhile, my men and Agent Todd stay with the kids, make sure the football stays where it's supposed to."

"Good enough for me," Mulder said. "Who'll take over while you're gone though?"

"Good question," Redford said. "Well, to be honest, I trust Agent Todd and those kids more than Haggard and Sweetwater."

"What about Marlow?" Scully said, checking her weapon again. To Mulder, it appeared to be her "security blanket". "He seems balanced enough."

"You're right," Redford said. "Marlow, get over here!"

"What is it Sarge?" Marlow asked, running over.

"Marlow, me and the agents here are gonna go help Vincent and Hopkins in the Capitol building. You and Agent Todd hold down the fort here, and make sure that the football stays out of the enemy's hands, got it?"

"Are you sure Sarge?" Marlow said, concerned that his squad leader was about to do something none too wise.

"Dead sure," Redford said. "And we're taking the tiger."

"No dice, buddy," Hobbes said with a growl. "I stick with Calvin, and if he's not going, I'm not going."

"But you can't be killed by those things, we can." Mulder walked up. "You know that as long as Calvin's as far away from these things as possible, he'll be safe, right?"

"Doesn't mean I'll trust you with him!" Hobbes said. "The only people I do are his parents and teachers, got it? I even trust his Uncle Max more than you, and I think I've only ever seen him once!"

"Hobbes is right! I won't let him go anywhere without me, he's my best friend!"

"But innocent people are still dying out there!" Mulder said. "With Hobbe's help we can get help to where it's needed, and maybe even save some lives in the process!"

"I'm only worried about Calvin," Hobbes growled. "You can go off and do what you want, I'm staying here!"

Seeing it was getting none of them anywhere, Marlow decided it was no or never to come in. "Calvin, you read comic books?"

"Uh yeah…but what exactly do Spaceman Spiff and Tracer Bullet have to do with a situation this globally important?" Calvin asked, confused.

"If they were here, right now, don't you think they would do everything they could to help the people in danger?"

"Yeah, but I'm neither of them!" Calvin said. "I need Hobbes with me!"

"I'm not talking about just you, Calvin," Marlow said. "If Hobbes does go with them, he can help them get the bad guy a lot faster than any of us could alone, understand?"

Calvin looked at Hobbes, then leaned close to Marlow's ear. "But I'm afraid that if he does go with them, I'll never see him again."

Marlow nodded, then looked Calvin dead in the eye. "Kid, sooner or later we have to let the people…or tigers, in this case…if we care about them, sooner or later we have to go without them, understand? Just because you can't see him doesn't mean he doesn't stop existing, right?"

"We'll be right with him, kid," Redford said. "I doubt we could let him out of our sight even if we wanted to."

Calvin looked hard at Redford, then at Hobbes. "Will you really be able to go with them?"

"Hey, if they're able to see me now, Calvin, I guess they'll be able to see me without you, right?" Hobbes said, putting a paw on Calvin's shoulder and pulling him close. "But it's still your choice. Do I go with them or stay with you?"

Calvin's mind rushed, everyone in the room seeing the wheels in his head working harder than they probably ever had. Tears were ready to burst on the very edges of his eyes. His lips quivered and his hands shook, until finally, he grabbed Hobbes neck in a mighty hug. "Don't you dare come back until you've kicked that bad guy's butt!"

"You got it, buddy," Hobbes said, rubbing the side of his face against Calvin's cheek, before turning to face the three. "Okay, let's go."

"Before you do Sarge, you're gonna need this," Haggard said, holding out the piece of explosive he'd been carrying.

"You're…you're giving me this? Haggard, are you feeling okay?" Redford said. It was completely unlike Haggard to just give away an explosive, let alone his only piece.

"Hey, you'll need it more than me, won't ya? Sides, if that lil' blonde agent is still alive, she'll be able to put it to some good use, I'll bet."

Redford took the plastique, and shook Haggard's hand firmly. "I'll make sure we put it to good use, Hags," he said, pocketing the explosive.

"So you're really set on this?" Agent Todd said, walking towards the group. She was smiling, though a very sad smile. "I still don't really know what's going on here, and I don't think I ever will. I haven't been much help either, just a fifth wheel." She scratched the back of her head nervously. "Just make sure that whoever did this pays for what they've done, okay?"

"You've got it," Mulder said. With that, the two FBI agents, the Army Sergeant and the mystical tiger were off across the lawns to the Capitol, to finish the nightmare.

* * *

The men in the squad all had their memories of particularly tough missions. Defending Kuwaiti oil fields. Taking down Iraqi infantry brigades. Protecting UN supply convoys in Somalia. Keeping the Serbs and the Croats from killing each other. Then, they had always had some kind of support, some backup to help them, expendable as they were.

They were now well and truly on their own.

They'd been forced back into Lincoln park, the screams of panicked civilians surrounding them, as the ghouls shuffled forward. The cars had been abandoned, the blasting music drowned out by the monsters' groans. Some of the houses were actually burning, electrical fires from when the odd ghoul tried to chew at the wiring.

"I'm almost out!" Holchek shouted, sending his last magazine into the feed.

"We all are!" one of his squadmates shouted, finally going for his pistol. "So what now, our own last stand at the Alamo?"

"Not unless you wanna wake up dead!" Holchek barked. "Jenkins, try and get into contact with someone!"

"Who!"

"Anyone! Skinner, the cops, the Sarge, someone who can help us!" Holchek said, carefully picking his targets now.

Nodding, Jenkins went through every possible channel, repeating the same message. "Mayday, mayday, this is Bravo One of 222nd Army Battalion, B-Company, requesting immediate assistance to 11th Street Northeast! Anyone listening on this channel who can help, please respond, over!" After fifteen minutes, with the ghouls getting increasingly closer, and steadily surrounding the men, an answer finally came through.

"_Bravo One, this is Lt. Hawkins, 74__th__ Troop Command. We are closing on your location, ETA fifteen minutes, can you hold until then?_"

"You're damn right we can!" Jenkins shouted. "Bravo One out!" Turning to the others, he shouted, "We got friendlies inbound in fifteen!"

"That'll work!" Holchek said, as a bullet bounced off the tree he was taking cover behind. Switching his selector to single shot, he picked off ghouls one by one, proud of the fact that he only missed seven out of thirty rounds. Letting his M4 fall, he grabbed his M9 and started firing, as other members of the squad pulled grenades and let'em fly. The blast and flash was blinding in the darkness, as ghouls fell. Shrapnel nearly killed some of the men, but a few nicks and cuts could be mended later. Some of the men, completely out of ammo, pulled their knives, and stood ready to go hand to hand with the monsters.

The battle would live on in the legend of those transferred into B-Company, worse than any bar brawl or fight before. Knives plunged into hearts and heads, rotten bodies falling to the ground. One of the men, Pvt. Hubert, was pulled into the mass, as he screamed and stabbed the whole way, three ghouls falling before he was consumed. Holchek stabbed from one ghouls to another, the monsters dropping like a father seeing his child being born. Jenkins went to town. Suddenly the others knew why he had been transferred for "excessive following of orders", his blade flying like a hawk at a mouse into the monsters. The squad tried to pull out of the park, sure that they had provided at least enough of a distraction to let the civilians flee, but their way out was blocked, the ghouls forming a thick circle around them.

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't!" Jenkins shouted.

"We're already damned," Holchek said with a grin. "Let's kick ass boys! HOOAH!"

"_HOOAH!_"

The forces of the 74th didn't often see action after the Cold War "officially" came to an end, but they remembered their training well enough. As civilians fled behind them, they brought up a steady line with whatever cops had fallen in with them. The ghouls were easy pickings as long as the men kept their wits about them. They aimed and fired, one easy motion after another. After about thirteen minutes, they arrived on Lincoln Park Drive, and heard a massive moaning from the center of the park. Using grenades and .50 cals, they cleared the park, only to find a dreadful sight.

Out of the eight men that were still with the squad, only Jenkins and two others had lived, a ring of corpses around them. The men of the 74th quickly secured the area, as medics saw to the three. Even then, one of the men was still bitten, and was quietly led away, a lone shot heard a minute later. Holchek was found under a ghoul, his knife buried in the monster's right temple, his pistol under his chin, a manic grin on his face.

"Are you Jenkins?" Looking up, Jenkins saw a man with a lieutenant's rank kneeling down. "Lt. Hawkins…are you alright?"

"Yeah," Jenkins said, taking out a canteen and taking a drink. "Thanks for getting here early."

"Not early enough," Hawkins said, as he watched his men put bullets into the heads of the members of the squad. "What happened here, private?"

"Bad Company, sir," Jenkins said, starting to laugh, his surviving squadmate joining him. "Goddamn Bad Company happened sir!"

"Bad Company...you mean it's actually…"

"Damn right it's real, sir," Jenkins said, laughing hard now, jumping up and down. "Goddamn, you bastards, you held the line! We did it, damnit, we did it!" he yelled, grabbing his remaining squadmate in a great bear hug, as the men of the 74th moved forward to finish what the squad had started.

* * *

With the line stalled at 34th Street, DeFilipo, Harris, Finneman and Winston reassessed what they were facing at Ground Zero.

"From what it looks like, there's a mass of PK energy dead center in Times Square," Winston said, pointing on a map of Manhattan. "The means that a lot of people have died with a lot of unfinished business, as far as we can tell."

"So what do we do, say a few prayers and hope they go away?" Harris asked.

"I wish it were that easy," Winston said. "The boys we have in NYPD HQ said that a second group of cops is moving down from the north, and they've got help of their own, three guys from Boston." Winston noticed that Harris and DeFilipo shared a look at that. "They've linked up with surviving cops at 145th and have formed their own line, they're waiting for us to meet with them since we've got the most organization going on."

"So how long until the fire department gets here?" Finneman asked.

"The ambulance driver says thirty to forty-five, an hour tops, depending on how fast they can get into and through the Bronx. For that, I'd suggest we-" Winston stopped, and looked over his shoulder to hear sirens coming towards them. "What the hell?"

Coming up the Broadway, lights flashing and sirens roaring, an engine and ladder came rolling up the street, Ladder 62 and Engine 99 on the sides. On the sides, standing tall on the running boards, firefighters, dressed in their trademarks, came rolling up, their faces daring anyone to say anything. Other engines followed behind, forming up behind the line. Quickly, the leaders met up with the men getting off the 62 truck. The chief, quickly identified by his lighter clothing, walked up to meet with them. "Jerry Reilly," he said, sticking his hand out and shaking Winston's. "We heard the call, we got up here as fast as we could."

"We really appreciate it," Winston said. "We were actually expecting all the help to come from outside the island, but now that you're all here, we can move a little faster."

"Good thing too," Reilly said. "Those bozos from Queens would screw up faster than you could spit. Just tell us where you need us."

"We were just talking about that," Winston said. "If you'll join us, it'd help a lot so we know where to position who."

"Sure thing. Just let me get my crew ready." Walking back to the men, he started barking. "Alright, everyone of you listen! I'll be over with these guys talking about what we're gonna do! You guys get the hoses and pumps ready, I don't want no screw ups! I'm don't want to have to tell anyone's families they got taken out by a corpse and not a fire!"

"You got it," Firefighter Tommy Gavin said, as he and his fellows quickly set about their work. "Christ, the one time we pull a night shift and this happens. God must _really_ hate us, don't he?"

"Could be worse, Tom, you know that," Lt. "Lou" Shea said. "We coulda been out drinking when this happened, then where'd we be, drunk and dead?"

"And so plastered we wouldn't even know it," Firefighter Franco Rivera added, pulling out hose from the truck. "I could go if I were that drunk."

"Hey, can we not talk about that?" Tommy said, going over to the nearest hydrant. "I like to live, you know, and talking about it doesn't exactly help."

"It's bound to happen sooner or later, Tommy," his cousin, Jimmy Keefe said. "Only thing we can do is make it worth it."

"Hey, can we cut the talk already?" Lou said. "Half that hose is still in there, I want it out guys!"

Quietly, the men went about it, until Firefighter Sean Garrity finally started talking. "Um, guys? I'm…uh, I'm really afraid right now."

"Yeah, we're all afraid, Probie, it's part of the job," Lou said, helping Tommy with connecting the hose to the hydrant.

"Yeah, but this is, like, really big, you know? I mean, really, _really_ big. I mean do we have to be out here?"

"I gotta agree with him," Franco said, the other firefighters looking at him in disbelief. "What, I do. This isn't a fire emergency, this is a cop thing, not our jurisdiction."

"It's the biggest disaster in recent history," Lou said, the others still working. "All over the country, all over the world people are feeling this, Franco. Who knows how many of our buddies might have been lost in this, even off the job. No one's gonna be the same after this, and we've gotta make sure to do whatever we can against these bastards Franco, and do you know why? Because this was an attack on us, Franco." Lou stopped, leaned against the truck, and looked at the ground. "Someone hated us enough to let these things loose against innocent people, Franco. Women, children even, the people we're supposed to help and protect. This wasn't military, or an attack on just the cops. They're attacking our very way of life, the way we choose to act." Lou looked over at Franco. "We have to do this, Franco, or it's all over." Finally understanding, Franco nodded.

"Um, but these things eat you, don't they?" Sean said, the whole crew groaning. "What, what'd I say?"

"Hey, asshole, we have enough to worry about with burning to death in a Goddamn tenement, we don't need to think about being eaten alive!" Tommy said.

"But they do, don't they, I mean I'm not wrong, right?"

"You're always wrong, even when you're right," Jimmy said, the crew laughing at their probie.

Looking over the map, Chief Reilly let out a low whistle. "That's a damn lot to take in, boys, no lie. Vampires, zombies, what's next, the Goddamn Easter Bunny?"

"At this point I think that'd be a good thing," Winston said. "Now how many trucks do you have?"

"Fifteen engines and seven trucks," Reily said.

"And how many of those trucks are high rise?" Winston asked.

"Three. Are there that many people up in the buildings?"

"Take a look," Winston said, pointing up the street. Following the hand, Reilly saw that some of the buildings still had lights on inside, shadows at the windows waving for help.

"Got it. I'll coordinate with the other chiefs, we'll set ourselves up and wait for you guys to give the okay."

"First things first," Fr. Lawrence said, walking up with the various priests and rabbis the three auxiliaries had brought with them as he took off his glasses from his red nose to clean. "We have to make sure your trucks are blessed."

"Right, right, that's make'em better somehow," Reilly said, his mind still processing everything the Ghostbusters had told him. "Just make sure a priest gets to engine 15."

"Any particular reason?" Winston asked.

"Well, let's just say Jimmy the Jew won't like a rabbi."

"Anti-Semetic?" Venkman said, Reilly nodding. "Okay, we'll make sure to get a rabbi over there right quick, right rabbi?"

"Oh, it's always a pleasure to deal with people like him," Speilmann chuckled. Nodding, and not hiding a grin very well, Reilly went to his own vehicles, to radio the other officers to get things settled and ready.

"We still have to worry about that concentration of PKE, Ray," Egon said. "Blessed fire engines may not be enough to neutralize it."

"We'll find out when we get there, Egon," Ray said. "For now, we'll keep moving forward."

"Okay, boys, we're going to stick right on Broadway," Reilly said, coming back to his battalion. "Get the engine up behind the line, I want the ladder up now."

"Why?" Sean asked. "I mean we can't move the ladder while it's up, can we?"

"Niels, you can do the job, right?" Reilly asked the driver.

"Damn right, chief!" Neils said with a laugh, giving a thumbs up. With a whine, the ladder rose, Neils overriding essential safety controls in the truck so that they could drive forward with ladder raised. As long as they didn't need to make any sudden turns, they'd be able to rain holy water down on the ghouls with impunity. Soon, Fr. Lawrence was with them, quickly blessing their truck and engine. All down the line, priests and rabbis blessed and prayed, the largely Catholic firefighters bowing their heads in respect, though Jimmy the Jew had to walk off for a minute as Speilmann blessed his engine. The blessings finished, the firefighters checked the gauges on their vehicles and slowly rolled forward, their sirens blaring alongside the ones of the police. When the ghouls came up, they let loose on the hoses.

At first, a few drops of water hit the ghouls, and the firefighters saw nothing happen before the cops and auxiliaries with them put the ghouls down. Then, the ghouls came in greater numbers again, and the firefighters and men on the ground saw something happen. A steam started to rise from the ghouls, skin starting to fall off in ever growing chunks. Bones started to hiss and soften, legs disintegrating as ghouls collapsed in piles.

"Holy Christ its working!" Tommy shouted, moving forward with a hose. "It's actually working!"

"My God," Chief Reilly said, quickly blessing himself. He'd seen apartment blazes where no one had died, and small garbage can fires that quickly consumed half a block. He'd been there during the '93 Trade Center bombing. He'd seen crackheads still doing drugs as buildings burned down around them, and he'd helped women give birth as they rode an ambulance to the hospital, and was sure that a few single-mother kids in the city had his own name somewhere in theirs. This sight still made him want to slap himself awake. "Probie, you get back and keep an eye on the lines, tell me the minute they start to get tight!"

"Yeah, on it!" Sean said, running to the lines.

"This is incredible!" Ray shouted. "The channeling of the protons from the fire trucks is so intense! It's like the larger the object the more charged the protons!"

"That's great and all Ray, but could you please not stand behind me?" Winston said, Ray jumping out of the way seconds before Winston fired one of his five remaining rounds, blowing apart a group of ghouls at the intersection of the Avenue of the Americas and 37th. "Where's the second group?"

"142nd," DeFilipo said. "They've finally gotten organized and are moving down as fast as they can."

"Tell them to hold where they are, any further and they'll be stretching themselves too thin. Has the 69th gotten things together?"

"They're forming up at Yankee Stadium, they'll be crossing in a few minutes. Units from Jersey are also ready to move across the bridges and through the tunnels. The President's ordered them to listen to anyone inside fighting these things."

"Tell them to form up and meet us on 39th Street," Winston said. "And tell them to get some men onto boats to get across the river to 142nd to meet with the second line!"

"On it!" DeFilipo said, radioing to the A.O.H. group on Yonkers to coordinate with with National and Coast Guard.

* * *

**Lucky 13, folks, coinciding with the arrival of the amazing popemobile helicopters! Which means, of course, the arrival of reviews on how the story is doing? I'm not kidding, folks, I appreciate reviews that help me get better with writing. So click that button and tell me what you think!**


	16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

"So we've got a dragon, a mercenary, three handymen, a survivalist, a force of walkers from Dreamland, what's left of the LAPD and ourselves," Chuck said, spreading a map over the black pavement on the street under one of the few still operating lamps, the small, ragtag group of cops, black ops agents, handymen and mercenary gathered round. "The LAPD force in Beverly Hills is moving down slowly, and the reisigs are rounding up and destroying the largest concentrations of enemy forces. Our only concern now is destroying the enemy leader."

"We're looking for someone with special abilities, someone who isn't able to easily blend in to a panicked crowd of civilians," Schroder said. "They'll be too calm in this situation, especially if they aren't attached to any official organization."

"We'll scour the city, pass on the information to the local police and National Guard, when they arrive. We're also getting support from the Vatican-" The Warbucks agents started to groan. "In the form of the Hibernians and Sons," Chuck finished, the groans quickly vanishing. "Now Schroder, Val and Burt take the Beverly Hills area. Sally, Earl, and Grady, take the coast. Det. Riggs, Patty, and Sally take Burbank. Det. Murtaugh, Det. Orcot and myself will search West LA."

"What are you, crazy, that's hundreds of square miles, minimum," Riggs said, still grinning despite the sarcasm.

"I don't think they're going to search every nook and cranny, Riggs," Murtaugh said.

"Yeah, all units, all units, be on the lookout for a pale man in a big black cape, able to turn into a bat, that's the one to look for."

"I wouldn't act so smart in front of the nice government agents, Riggs."

"The walkers have IR, so do the choppers," Capt. Eckhart said. "We'll canvas the city, you're all going to areas that haven't been thoroughly searched yet. And since your brother still apparently has control of the…dragon," Eckhart said, looking over at the massive creature. "It can probably sense where the vampire is as well."

"You really think that's possible?" Orcot said, holding Chris close to him.

"Animals are special somehow," Patty said. "We've tested if they can detect undead beings, and dogs and other animals can sense them without fail. Even great white sharks have vacated areas where vampires are close to."

"So you think Shuko and her sisters can find the person that did this?" Chris said, looking awed.

"It's worth a shot, and knowing D, it probably could find anything like a vampire in this city." Sighing, Chris nodded. "Let's do it."

"Alright then. Finally, Deadpool, you'll go to-Where'd he go?" Chuck asked, seeing the mercenary nowhere in sight.

"Let's just get to the choppers, we'll find him while we're canvassing, first one to find him picks him up," Lucy said, moving to the choppers, the others following.

* * *

Speeding down Rosencrans Ave in a stolen Hummer (the car, not the military vehicle), Deadpool went over everything he knew outloud to himself.

"So the blonde one causes all this, and she's hiding with the writer, right?"

"_That's about the size of it_," the Italic text said. "_But how do we find them?_"

"**Either of you think we should grab the dogs from D's shop and have them sniff them out?**" the Bold text said.

"Too long," Deadpool said. "That kid's in big trouble for this, and those government types'll throw her on a spit and roast her."

"**So basically we wait for the author to have her pop up in front of us.**"

"Sadly," Deadpool said. "And there's-Wait…what's one of the most famous landmarks in LA?"

"_**The Compton Donught!**_" both texts said.

"No!" Deadpool shouted. "The big one," he said, making a hard left on Downey. "The Hollywood sign!" Careening down Downey, he made another left onto South Somerset, onto the Century Freeway, then a quick right on the Long Beach. Swerving right and left around massive pile-ups and accidents on the freeway, he fired at any ghouls who were moving too much for his comfort. He navigated the labyrinthine freeways like an LA native, scraping against the edge of the guardrail when he drifted onto the Hollywood Freeway. As he passed exit 3B, he saw a group of nuns holding off a group of ghouls with their own weapons, their clothes flying like flags as they moved. "Man, if they're bride's to Jesus, I'd hate to see what happens when he goes to the doghouse."

"_Wow that was lame,_" Italic said. "_Seriously, that's not the writer, that was you._"

"**Hey, watch out!**" Bold yelled, Deadpool turning hard to the right as a riesig stormed onto the freeway.

"Crap, they'll know where we are," Pool said, at the riesig trained it's turret on the SUV.

"_Captain, this is Valkyrie 4, I've got a Hummer speeding down the Freeway._"

"Occupant?" Eckhart asked, Cole starting the riesig up to move.

"_Couldn't see him, sir, and the heat from the engine didn't give me time to identify._"

"Affirmative, 4, track and confirm who or what was in that vehicle." Strapping in, Eckhart watched the screens light up, as the turret closed up. "Cole, get on those weapons and stand ready, the enemy could get heavy once they realize we've figured them out."

"Countermeasures are standing by," Cole said. "Think it was that Deadpool guy?"

"Without a doubt, but he could do our jobs for us," Eckhart said, moving the walker forward. Sweeping the camera over the buildings, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the normal trappings of a large city. And bodies growing cold on the ground. Or as they walked about. The blackhawks and riesigs canvassed outwards, teams from the LAPD slowly moving inwards from their barricades and roadblocks. LAPD choppers, finally getting safe haven to refuel, aided with the canvas, but only found ghouls among the crowd in Dodger's stadium, those infected quickly removed and neutralized. The LA Air Force base and Airport were nearly overrun with undead, the police at the airport and security forces in the base holding off the hordes as best they could. In the airport, hundreds of stranded passengers huddled together in fear. Finally gathered together, the LAPD SWAT team, first in the nation, led the way in securing the aiport, as a pair of riesigs cleared the airbase. Quickly explaining the situation, the security forces radioed the SWAT teams and informed them that important information was on the cameras in the airport and the ones the passengers carried, the teams quickly gathering up as many cameras of any kind as they could. Maybe some of the civilians would get the cameras back, but the law enforcement teams doubted they would want them at all.

* * *

"_We've cleared the stadium, Chuck,_" Linus said, as Chuck and the two detectives flew to El Segundo. "_Lt. Powell is coordinating the police forces on-scene, and we've gotten word the National Guard is moving into the outskirts as we speak, they've already met with the LAPD and State Police forces that were on the outskirts, Sherriff's department is also getting their pieces in order._"

"Got it," Chuck said. "Have we found Deadpool yet?"

"_One of the walkers spotted a Hummer speeding up the freeway, but it was going too fast, we lost it. We'll probably find it when our forces finish up searching._"

"Got it," Chuck said. "Det. Orcot, I think we've found a way to arrest Count D for trafficking, but not for drugs. The truth is, he's a trafficker of highly illegal and dangerous animals into the country, that's what's caused all the deaths you've been investigating."

"Wait, even those rabbits?" Orcot said, nearly jumping out of his chair. "You're telling me those rabbits are some foreign species!"

"A rare breed of Australian rabbit, they don't reproduce like other mammals. The young are more like parasites than a live birth."

"Story of every parent," Murtaugh said with a laugh.

"But that means we can finally bring him in, right? After this is all over we can grab and go!" Orcot said, smiling wide.

"Correct," Chuck said.

"That's nice and all, but now we have to focus on finding this…vampire, oh Christ, did I really just say that?" Murtaugh said, dragging his palm across his face.

"It'll be either hiding in plain sight, or in the shadows. I wouldn't rule out the sewers either, French vampires fled there in droves during the 1853 reconstruction of Paris by Baron Haussman." Chuck looked out the chopper's open door. "We've got a long way to go before this thing finally bites the dust."

"We can't let this thing live, can we?" Murtaugh asked, checking his revolver.

"Too dangerous," Chuck said. "These bastards don't die of age, they go into a state similar to hibernation. Once they smell fresh blood, they'll come back, and that's all it takes."

"Then we take it out," Orcot said, putting fresh rounds into his own revolver. "And once we're done with that, we take D in," he said, flicking the cylinder back into the revolver.

* * *

"A-a-are you sure they won't find me?" Michelle said, huddled behind Nenene's desk. Outside, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosives filled the night, as helicopter spotlights crossed the sky like spaceships searching for victims.

"Why would they go looking for a vampire in a book store?" Nenene answered, peeking outside the venetian blinds. Inside, shelf upon shelf of books stood against the walls, each a classic first edition, from Jules Verne to J.R.R. Tolkien, a collection of the world's most famous authors.

Michelle nodded, then looked up, seeing a pair of headlights approaching. Panicking, she hid behind one of Nenene's couches, practically shivering herself apart. "Hey, it's probably just a patrol car," Nenene said, when the engine roared louder. Turning, Nenene saw that the SUV was speeding towards the house at what could only be called ramming speed. Grabbing Michelle's arm, Nenene ran into the back, shoving Michelle behind a large pile of boxes filled with books, while Nenene grabbed a box cutter from a nearby desk. Of course, she didn't even know how to wield it in a way that would drive whoever it was off, but if it was the police, she was confident she could explain it away as a desperate self-defense measure. That thought disappeared when the Hummer finally jumped the curb and ploughed dead into the building, throwing bricks and metal flying everywhere. Michelle screamed, as Nenene readied herself, waiting for the driver to step out.

"Wow that was cool!" Deadpool said, kicking out the front windshield. "I wanna try that again!"

"**Think she'll be angry we trashed the store?**" Bold asked.

"_I'm just worried about what'll happen when we find the girl._"

"Hello! Anyone here? Tryin' to help people here, and that's something for free, so why don't we just talk, huh?" Deadpool said, yelling through the building as he walked forward. "I won't hurt ya…much!" As he walked, Deadpool creaked across the wood floor, suddenly stopping at one of the shelves. Peeking down it, he changed direction, Nenene listening to every step. "Hmmm, what do we have here?" he asked aloud, to a pair that Nenene or anyone else would ever hear. "I think it's Gentleman's bones here."

"_Did he really just say Gentleman's bon_-"

"**Watch it, this is a teen story, and that's pushing it.**"

"Guess no one'll mind if I make a little fire," Deadpool said, throwing the book on the ground, taking out a vintage Ronson. "After all, no one seems to be here, so burning this little book won't do _any_ harm!"

Nenene raised an eyebrow. "_Burning a book? Hell, as long as he doesn't find us, he can burn down the…whole…store…_" Worried, she turned to look at Michelle, whose face had gone from scared to flat-f*****g terrified in a half second. Frightened herself that Michelle would bolt and give them away, Nenene peeked around the door, seeing what would happen next, only to find that the man, who she could now see was dressed in red, with foolishly large ammo belts with innumerable pouches, had somehow set up a camp chair, a fire ring, even a tent in the middle of the store. Pulling out a hotdog and taking a bite out of it with his mask still on, Deadpool ate the dog, then stuck the book onto the metal skewer he was using, putting it over the fire. Hearing a whimper from behind, Nenene scurried over to Michelle, both to comfort her and keep her under control, as she heard the girl start to whimper.

"Oh, mama's lil' baby loves good burned, good burned, mama's lil' baby likes good burned books," Deadpool sang, turning the book over slowly. Weakened by the flames, it's cover fell open, it's pages now fully exposed to the flame. Michelle whimpered louder now, shaking violently in Nenene's arms. She could feel the book's pain, hear it's cries for help. She wanted to just run out and grab it, pull it away from the fires and put it out, to at least save some of it.

"Hm, I don't think I added enough gas to the fire," Deadpool said, siphoning out some of the Hummer's gas tank from a hose he had found and aiming it at the book, the flames shooting higher, enough so that the sprinklers finally went off, soaking every book in the store.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Without warning, Michelle ripped herself from Nenene and ran out of the backroom, hurling herself at Deadpool without mercy, trying to form spears out of wet paper. For her part, Nenene ran out seconds later, prying Michelle off the red-suited man.

"Wow!" Deadpool said, righting himself. "What a hit! She could play linebacker for the Raiders! I know, they need it."

"What are you thinking, you monster!" Michelle cried, threatening to rip herself from Nenene's arms again. "The books! You're killing the books!"

"Technically, you can't kill something that isn't alive," Deadpool said, almost bored.

"Who are you!" Nenene shouted, holding the box cutter feebly in front of her. "Did you come to kill her!"

"That's my single rule, actually," Deadpool said. "I don't do kids." Bending down into the now dying fire, he pulled out the still readable cover. On it, a strange symbol, seven points vertices connected by an Euler circuit. "I believe this was 'The Book of the Supporting Bones'."

"_I'm telling you he said_-"

"**Look, the jokes dead, just let it go.**"

"What about the other books!" Michelle cried, watching as ink slowly blended into the water running down the shelves. "You destroyed them!"

"Girl, this is the digital age, I'm sure there's plenty of computers out there with these exact books saved to file. Now c'mon, we have to get you outta here before they find you!"

"What do you mean, start talking!" Nenene said, only to shut up when Deadpool shot the box cutter from her hands.

"Look, long story short, the girl's in trouble, and you're gonna need someone with my expertise to get you outta here."

"And what kind of expertise is that?" Nenene asked, her voice shaky.

"Anything and everything, including bovine dentistry," Deadpool said, going back towards the Hummer. "Seriously, if we don't get her outta here, they're gonna kill her!"

Nenene frowned, but nodded, realizing what was at stake. "C'mon, Michelle, he'll take us somewhere we can't be found."

Michelle just kept crying, as the Hummer scraped it's way out of the store and roared down the street and up towards the Hollywood sign.

* * *

A half hour later, nothing had turned up on the IR screens in the choppers or walkers, but the city was being cleared. The ghouls were rounded up and destroyed, as National Guard and Iscariot auxiliaries moved in, state police and LA Sherriff's deputies hanging back in case something still went wrong, while Red Cross staff gathered to move in and provide whatever help they could. Police moved through the buildings and alleys, literally forcing people down at gunpoint to check for bites. A few heroin users, more afraid of being arrested than of being shot, ran or tried to fight, leading to more accidental shootings and many officers questioning themselves. One of the Valkyries lost control of the accelerator and smashed into an apartment complex near Venice beach, sending a man screaming to his death when his wall collapsed. Gangs across the city, realizing the threat had slowly started to pass, made desperate overtures to the police, pleading for help in exchange for whatever evidence they could give, or firing the second the police came in range. The sight of a massive walker stomping onto their turf quickly put a stop to such things. Helicopters were not immune from such accidents, the crowded airspace having several near hits, only prevented by the skills of the Blackhawk pilots.

"Tell all units to get their heads back on straight, I don't want to report any accidents to the boss," Chuck said, as he and the two detectives moved away from their chopper to search the area on foot. "We need as many choppers in the air as possible, if the pilots feel they can't fly, then tell them they're ordered to land immediately." Behind him, the chopper took off, the two detectives watching it leave.

"So what now, we just stumble around until we think we find something?" Orcot said, as the chopper flew away in the night.

"Not exactly," Chuck said, taking out his communicator. "I need to talk with you about bringing D in, and his father."

"Forget that, I've never even seen his father," Orcot said, annoyed.

"Not his grandfather, his father," Chuck said. "Det. Murtaugh, I need you here because Riggs would rather annoy me too much while I'm trying to explain things."

"I can't imagine why," Murtaugh said. "So why're we gonna bring in his dad too?"

"We've had reports from around the world about how much trouble he's caused," Chuck said. "If his son is any indication, D senior could be even more loathing towards people."

"D does have a habit of leaving people out to dry to save an animal," Orcot said. "It wouldn't surprise me if his daddy-dearest is willing to actually do something against people."

"So how do we find him? Shoot a few dogs and hope he comes to kick our asses?" Murtaugh said.

"Just the opposite," Chuck said. "We use D to take us to his father. Orcot, your brother could be the key to that, in fact. He has a control over the dragon, and that kind of threat to D's shop could coerce him to 'work' with us."

"You want to use a kid like that?" Murtaugh said, unable to believe it. "It's a kid, and he's spend time with D, I've heard Orcot talk about it during some of our get-togethers, he probably has something up his sleeve to take out that thing, maybe even turn it against the kid!"

"D also appears to have a soft spot for the boy," Chuck argued. "He could be the key to moving on D's father without D causing problems for us."

"He's still a boy, you can't put him in danger like that!" Murtaugh shouted.

"He could also be the key to keeping this disaster from getting worse," Chuck said. "If D's father decides to take advantage of this, the situation may no longer be limited to the LA area."

"Leon, don't do this!" Murtaugh said, seeing his fellow detective deep in thought. "You know the Feds! They'd sell out their own mothers to get a lead, what would they do to a boy like your brother!"

Orcot just turned around and stared out over the ocean, patiently thinking over his options, as the pair argued behind him. Slowly, he went over everything that had happened during his time investigating D. The strange man had been a source of everything from friendship to rage, a source and a babysitter. But beneath it all, Leon had sensed something lurking under the Count's exterior, a quiet detachment from every other person in the city.

"Can you guarantee that my little brother won't be hurt?" Orcot said, as the waves lapped on the sands.

"Of course," Chuck said.

"Leon, you've gotta think about this," Murtaugh said, trying to talk Leon down. "It's not a good idea, let's face it, you're putting your brother in a lot of danger."

"If D's father is worse than D, Chris'll be in danger if we don't find him." Leon turned away from the sea and nodded to Chuck. "Okay, let's round everyone up and get to D's, I think he's had this coming for too long."

"If you're sure," Murtaugh said, looking out over the ocean behind Orcot, as Chuck radioed for the chopper.

* * *

"Alright, gents, we've gotten some new information," the pilot of Earl and Grady's chopper said. "We're gonna go back to ask D a few questions, we're sure he knows more than he's telling us now."

"As long as we survive, you can tell me we're running naked into a heard of shriekers!" Grady said, turning to Earl. "So how do you think we can market this?"

"Market it?" Earl said, shocked that Grady would even think of saying such a thing. "Grady, we aren't even going to keep the park open for the next week! How can you even think about trying to put this into the park?"

"What, you made the graboids into an amusement park!" Grady said. "How do you think Chang and the others would'a felt about having those things turned into an amusement park ride?"

"This is different," Earl growled. "You don't go making money off something that's killed thousands of people! Grady, I thought you had more heart than that."

"So what's the difference between the graboid attacks and this? Just because fewer people died, you can make money off it?"

"Grady, it's just different, okay!" Earl shouted, ending the conversation, Grady sulking. Then, looking over the side of the chopper, he saw the people below trudging towards the stadium, saw what looked like a woman collapse and wail to the sky, the police nearby doing their best to help her move on. Shaken, Grady looked back ahead out the front windshield.

* * *

As a Blackhawk scanned Hollywood, the copilot saw nothing on the IR that indicated an enemy presence. The area was damn clean, a few frightened survivors running through the streets towards the inner city. Then, an SUV swerved into the IR screen, screaming through the streets. "Command, we've located Deadpool, repeat, Deadpool is located!"

"_Can you confirm?_" Linus said over the radio.

"I've got a large SUV here driving around like it's a sportscar, almost identical to the one spotted back near the stadium."

"_Roger, pilot, Marcy's on her way, hold position._"

"Roger, Hawk 2 out." Turning back to the SUV, the pilot went low, doing his best to tail the hummer without slamming into a tangle of LA power lines.

"Oh good, they've found us!" Deadpool said, sticking his head out the window to look back. "Now I really know what I'm doing!"

"What _are _you doing!" Nenene shouted, Michelle clinging tightly to the woman. "All you've done is just burn down a book store and nearly kill us with this thing!"

"I'm gonna get you both to England," Deadpool said. "You'll be more useful there than here, understand? And the Major won't be able to kill Maggie, she's under the protection of Hellsing."

"How do you know about him?" Michelle said, shocked.

"Not important," Deadpool said, turning onto N Beachwood, as a second chopper neared the area. Navigating the snake that was Mulholland, the hummer screeched to a stop behind LA's famous landmark. Throwing the two girls out of the SUV, Deadpool took off the red emblem he wore on his chest, shoving it into Nenene's hands. "This'll get you both straight to England in a second," he said. "Don't move, don't even talk until you know you're in England, okay? Unless I'm horribly mistaken, the sun still hasn't risen there yet, which means you can still help Integra and the others!"

"Wait, how do you know Integra!" Nenene shouted. "And for that matter, how do you know what I'm saying!"

"No time," Deadpool said, hearing the choppers come close. Without waiting for any more questions, he pressed the teleporter, Nenene and Michelle disappearing in a flash of light. Turning back to face the choppers, Deadpool pulled out his .45s and grinned under his mask. "Alright, you throwbacks to 1950s and 60s Americana, let's do this!"

A quick flash of light and crack of thunder later, and Deadpool had a new hole in his head.

"**Wow, what a shot!**"

"_That was anticlimactic._"

"Got him," Marcy said, lowering her Mk. 12. "Put us down, we need to confirm he's dead."

"I don't think he is," the pilot said, his voice shaky. "Look!"

Raising her rifle again, Marcy looked down the scope to see Deadpool sitting up, rubbing his forehead. "Damn, a regenerator!"

"Aw, now I have to explain this to my tailor," Deadpool said, poking his finger inside the hole in his forehead. "Who'da thunk the one with the glasses is the best shot of'em all."

"_Um, she's landing,_" Italic said, worried. "_Should we panic?_"

"Not until we hear that a fangirl is going to pair us with Big Red," Deadpool said, firing at the landing helicopters.

"Hawk 2, pull away and gather some of the police, I'll remain here!"

"_Roger, Hawk 2 out!_" Without another word, the second blackhawk flew away, as Marcy ran for cover behind a group of rocks, Deadpool still firing at her, guns akimbo. Calmly, almost like she was on the range, not under fire, Marcy lined up her shot, aiming for Deadpool's head again. With a crack and a flash, Deadpool felt another bullet slam into his forehead.

"Augh! Seriously, can you aim for somewhere else!" Deadpool shouted. Marcy complied by firing a round into his heart. "See, that's mixing it up."

"Where's the suspect, Deadpool!" Marcy shouted, the chopper circling the scene, spotlight trained on the mercenary. "What did you do with her, what was that flash!"

"Since I'm a merc, pay me some cash and I'll tell ya!" The next shot took out 'Pool's right kneecap. "You know I can heal from that, right?"

"This could be a while," Marcy said, firing at Deadpool's other knee.

* * *

The group gathered outside of the stadium, they loaded up on a single chopper, hawk 4, hawk 3 going with them to help force D to find his father. Leaving his Grizzly on the chopper, Burt followed the others off onto the street, storming into D's shop, only to find it abandoned and filled with old boxes. "No…No!" Orcot shouted, throwing the boxes about. "D, you bastard, where are you!"

"Where could he run?" Patty said, kicking at one of the boxes. "It's not like he wouldn't be obvious in this kinda mess."

"Which chopper is with Chris?" Chuck asked.

"One of the police choppers, Chuck."

"Call them up, tell them that Chris needs to use Honlon to track down D and his father, we'll meet them en route."

* * *

As the police pilot of LAPD chopper Sierra 6 flew alongside the shifting form of the dragon beside him, he felt uneasy. Oh, the dragon had indeed been helping, and had indeed saved a few of his buddies who worked Compton, but the fact that a massive three-headed lizard was being piloted by a kid was a little upsetting.

"_Sierra 6, this is Coliseum, we need you to tell Chris to order the dragon to find Count D, and stay with them until we arrive, over._"

"Roger, Coliseum, contacting now." Switching to the onboard speaker, he turned his head to the dragon. "Chris, D's vanished, they need Honlon to track'im down!"

"Okay!" Chris shouted, not realizing that the pilot couldn't hear him. "Honlon, Leon needs to find D, can you take us to him?"

The dragon stopped flying forward, the three heads looking at each other, like they were conferring on what to do. Looking at Chris, Shuko shook her head, as her sisters looked away.

"What?" Chris said, confused. "But why? D could be in danger, and we'd need to help him!"

Shuko looked hard at Chris, not knowing what to do. She couldn't communicate with Chris anymore, and couldn't explain that D couldn't disobey his father, even if it meant Chris would die.

"We can't take him to D, his father knows what he's doing!" Kanan growled.

"But Chris and his brother would die!" Junrei whined. "Chris is too nice to let that happen to him!"

"But he's still human, and he's regained his speech!" Kanan growled. "He is on their side now!"

"But we know he's not like his brother and the other humans-"

"I'm so sick of your weakness!" Kanan shouted. "We have to do this, and if you take their side, I will show you no mercy!" With a roar, Kanan lunged for Junrei's throat.

"Kanan, stop!" Chris shouted, Kanan freezing.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Sierra 6 whispered, watching the dragon's head stop where it was.

"Why can't I attack you!" Kanan growled. "What happened!"

"Chris' contract," Shuko said. "We're bound to him!"

"That's better," Chris said. "Now show me and my brother where D went to!"

With a worried nod, Shuko and her sisters flew towards Century City, Sierra 6 tailing close.

* * *

"What the hell's going on here?" Powell said, seeing another blackhawk coming in to land. "Something happen?"

"That's the chopper Marcy was on," Linus said. "C'mon Powell." Running over, the pair bent low under the still spinning blades. "Pilot! What's the situation!"

"Marcy's still out there, sir!" the pilot shouted. "She said to retreat and grab as many cops as I could, this Deadpool guy's just gone against us!"

"Got it!" Linus turned to Powell. "Powell, six cops, we've gotta help Marcy!"

"I'll go to," Powell said, getting on his radio to gather up the cops. Linus didn't have time to argue the point. Quickly, the cops were strapped in and the chopper was off.

"According to Marcy, Deadpool is distracting us from capturing the vampire responsible for this, so we need to distract him while the choppers search the surrounding mountains!" Linus explained, the cops ready as they could be, two of them armed with Mossberg shotguns, one armed with an AR-15. "Any questions!"

"What's this guy's power?" one of the police asked.

"We call beings with his abilities 'regenerators'," Linus said, silently glad that the police were learning what to expect. "He has the ability to heal any limb faster than us, though we don't know how fast he can recover. If we're lucky, he's a slow healer, and can only stand a few bullets to vital areas before his system gives up."

"And if we're not lucky?" Powell asked.

"Then his wounds will seal up the second the bullet enters his skin."

"So that's why he survived all that…" Powell said, seeing Linus looking at him oddly. "During the Nakatomi incident, one of the terrorists survived everything from getting shot to being hung from a steel chain!"

"Aiming for the head usually does the job well enough," Linus said, reaching into a rather large pocket. Smiling at whatever was inside, he closed the pocket again and stared at the officers. "Think you can do this?"

"After what happened with the trial?" Powell said. "I think we can manage."

As Marcy kept shooting, she peeked behind her to see the chopper she sent away was coming back, police and Linus running to her position before the chopper took off again. "What's the situation?" Linus said, as Deadpool reloaded from behind the hummer.

"I've shot his head, his knees, his elbows and his other sensitive areas," Marcy said, reloading. "Nothing seems to have affected him."

"Alright. Powell, you and three of you cops move to the left, three of you come with me. Marcy, keep us covered!"

"Man, I've gotta stop being so nice to kids," Deadpool said, finished reloading. Hearing a faint noise in the sky, he saw that the two choppers were actively searching the hillsides for the girls. "Ha! You just got outsmarted by Deadpool!"

Silently, Powell and his three cops moved behind the Hollywood sign, as Linus led the other three through the trees that flanked the SUV. Marcy fired again, trying to draw Deadpool's attention to her. He complied by firing from underneath the hummer. The two groups slowly closed in on Deadpool, until Linus shouted, "NOW!"

The LAPD may have had a reputation for being poor shots, but their fire ripped under the SUV, Deadpool screaming in surprised as bullets and buckshot hit him. Wriggling out from the hummer, he was quickly set upon by the officers and Linus, Marcy running to help them. Desperate to get any kind of advantage, Deadpool grasped desperately for anything, grabbing hold of a pocket. Ripping it open and pulling out what was inside, he saw it was…"What kinda cop carries a blue blanket?"

Running up, Marcy saw Linus had frozen solid where he was, as the officers wrestled with Deadpool. Only one thing could make him freeze like that, and it scared Marcy. "Run!" she shouted, running up and pulling the officers away. "You have to run, he's gonna go berserk!"

"What are you talking about?" Powell said, as Marcy pulled him away.

"My blanket…" Linus said, his eyes going blank.

"His blanket?" Powell said, confused. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Just run, he's doesn't act very happy when he's angry!" Marcy shouted, dragging the cops off Deadpool. Looking at the woman, Powell saw the very real and very heavy fear in her eyes, and decided to listen. Grabbing at his friends, he told them to run for the rocks Marcy had hid behind, leaving Deadpool and Linus alone.

"Wow…" Deadpool said. "Think they gave up because they saw my face?"

"WHERE'S MY BLANKET!" Linus shouted. Turning, Deadpool looked down to see the blanket was indeed still in his hands.

"Oh crap," he said, before Linus' fist drove into his mouth. Before he even had time to realize what happened, he felt a boot shoved into his stomach, then fists drive into the back of his neck.

"Oh damn…" Powell said, watching as Linus pulled out a knife and start stabbing. The cops stared in shock, one of them started to heave, as Marcy silently hid behind the rocks.

"**So is he finally down?**"

"_Shh, we're about to find out what the blanket looks like._"

Satisfied that Deadpool was finally down, Linus bent down to pick up his blanket. It was a little ratty after all the years he'd owned it, covered in dirt and pumpkin juice and even a little bit of blood. But it was still his blanket, and he would never see it taken away. Holding it close, he put it back in his pocket, and called the others over, Marcy jogging quickly to him, Powell and the cops taking a little longer, shocked that the man had suddenly snapped back to normal the way he did. "Put the cuffs on his legs and arms, we'll take him straight to the Fresno Supermax."

"Yeah…you got it…" Powell said quietly, just staring at Linus.

"Linus, we've got a problem," Marcy said. "The choppers haven't search all the hillside, but they've reported that there's no sign of any human heat sources, even at high altitude."

"Then he found a way to get them out that we can't find yet." He let out an angered sigh. "Get him to the airbase, we'll use one of their planes to get him out of here. And get one of the choppers down here too, we'd better get back in contact with Chuck."

"On it," Marcy said.

* * *

**So yeah, Chapter 14, and we're rolling right up to the end of the story, ladies and gents! So give me your opinions and your reviews, and I'll make sure the finale is worthy of your praise, or improved thanks to your criticisms. Anyway, REVIEW!**


	17. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS LANGUAGE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

* * *

Panic. Death. Fire. Blood. Loss.

All of these words defined England by the time six AM came around, not that what was left of the Newmarket volunteer force really had a chance to look. They had finally fallen into panic, barricading buildings and hiding where they could, trying to keep the women and children safe for as long as possible. The thunder of many hands on a single door swept through the town, those who tried to run for a car or just away were shot to pieces. The ghouls had a feast of the fallen, those unlucky few still alive begging for mercy.

"Damn bastards don't give up, do they?" Locke said, as he and a few others held the door to the station shut, others holding desks and riot shields against the windows. "If they use a ladder, we're done for!"

"Less talk, more hold!" Mendez shouted. "It's almost sunrise, once that's here, we're able to take the offensive!"

"I wish I could share your optimism, Mendez, but we're quite frankly outclassed, outnumbered, and out of time," Angel said, holding a riot shield to a window, beating away the grasping hands of the dead with a baton. "Maybe in another life we'd have success, but not today, at any rate. If nothing else we can take comfort that we held them off from getting farther into the country."

"That's no way to talk, Nicholas!" Butterman shouted, busy keeping his back to a desk against another window. "We can win against these things, we just have to hold out, ain't that hard to keep these things outside after all!"

"They've broken into some of the other buildings!" shouted one of the men upstairs. "Oh God, I can hear them screaming from here! They've…They've found some of the children!"

"Dear Christ," Locke said, quickly blessing himself.

"What if we surrender?" one of the policemen said. "Maybe he'll just kill us?"

"No way in hell am I surrendering to that bastard!" Mendez shouted. "Sides, last time you guys tried to make a deal with an evil nut, we had to drop two nukes to solve that little problem!"

"Though you have a point, I'd like it very much if you didn't say anything like that again," Locke said, as the door heaved again. "Though Mendez has a point, officer, we can't just surrender and think this thing will treat us with mercy, it hasn't shown any to children, what chance would we stand!"

"So what do we do, just wait here to die!" the man shouted, other officers looking towards them nervously.

"Screw dying, I like being alive!" Mendez growled, as the door shifted again.

Upstairs, while the officers ran about, the therapist and Figgins sat where they were, the therapist afraid to let Figgins out of his sight. Nervously, he took out a cigarette, and started to light up.

"Those'll give you cancer," Figgins said, the therapist jumping out of his skin. "Smoking's what killed my granddad in '88. My mother always said so."

"I d-d-don't think cancer's gonna get to me by the morning," the therapist said. "_Though a mouthful of fangs, that I'm worried about,_" he though, taking a long drag. "So you always listened to your parents?"

"They always knew what was right," Figgins said. "I remember them always telling me what to do. 'Don't drink until you're eighteen, don't smoke marijuana, don't have sex before you're married,' that kinda stuff."

"You're still a virgin?" the therapist said, surprised. Figgins nodded, the therapist shaking his head. "I'm not putting you down, understand, I'm just surprised. Not many people I know are virgins past twenty, you see?"

"Maybe I'm old fashioned," Figgins said with a laugh. "Like I said, I just want to be the good guy."

"Hey, we need some help in here!" one of the officers shouted, poking his head in the door. "Doc, we need you to help us downstairs, they're nearly breaking through, we need as much help as we can get!"

"Of-of course," the therapist said, dropping the cigarette and snuffing it. Grumbling about getting killed, he looked back at Figgins, seeing the man far too serene in all the madness. Walking over, he took Figgins by his shoulders. "You are not to leave this room, do you understand? No going to the windows or doors, just sitting right here, understood?"

"Yeah, no sweat," Figgins said, almost bored. Still not satisfied, the doctor turned away, running downstairs to help. As soon as Figgins was sure he was gone, then went to the window and threw open the windows, carefully climbing out, dropping from the second floor. He felt a little bad about lying, but he had crossed his fingers, after all, and in his almost childlike state of mind, that was well enough to get him by. Landing hard on the ground, he felt his left leg snap, but he held his breath, and soon the pain passed. Standing as best he could, he yelled out, "I SURRENDER! I SURRENDER!"

"What the hell was that?" Angel said, hearing screams outside, Peeking past the plexiglass riot shield, his voice nearly caught in his throat. "My God…Figgins is outside!"

"WHAT!" Mendez said, leaving the door to see what Angel was talking about. Looking above the ghouls, he saw Figgins limping around the streets, shouting something at the top of his lungs. "Figgins, what the hell are you doing!"

"Maybe he's trying to draw them away?" Butterman said, before a fist smashed through the wooden desk, grabbing the edge of Butterman's stab-proof vest. Screaming for help, Mendez rushed to it, as Angel fired through the table at the head of the ghoul that had grabbed Butterman. This only weakened the table, and let another ghoul smash it's head through and bite Butterman's shoulder. Screaming in pain,Mendez yanked Danny away from the window, as Angel fired again, dropping the ghoul, one of the other officers grabbing a new desk to put against the window.

"Danny, are you alright!"

"I don't know," Danny said. "I think it bit me."

"Dammit!" Mendez shouted, looking again to see the ghouls outside starting to crowd around Figgins. "What're you doing man!"

Figgins was shaking all over his body, the monsters around his snapping and slavering like wild dogs. Then the ones in front of Figgins parted, to reveal Walton stepping through them. "Ah, a smart one I see."

"I'm here to negotiate the terms of the surrender of Newmarket," Figgins said, gathering up as much courage as he could. "Do you understand?"

Walton blinked, not quite comprehending what he'd just heard. "Negotiate?" Then he smiled. "Why of course, my dear lad, we can always negotiate." With a snap of his fingers, a group of ghouls detached from the main horde and came back a minute later, carrying chairs, a table, two glasses of water, a pen, and a piece of paper. "So, what is the agreement?"

"In return to the cessation of hostilities, as well as my surrender, and the surrender of Airman Mendez, along with the local law enforcement, I ask that all civilians be spared and let go from the area."

"I see," Walton said, taking a sip of the water. As he put it down, Mendez noted that it was now tinged with red. "And if I refuse?"

"The whole town is rigged to explode," Figgins said defiantly. "Should we feel that the town is lost, we will detonate it, and take as much of your wing with you as possible. Before you question, remember that trap we set for you at the entrance to town."

Walton frowned. They had indeed set a trap, a good one too, one that took advantage of his pride. "I understand. And you'll all hand yourselves over?"

"I know we're more useful to be changed than just as bodies," Figgins said. "You'll get us, our weapons, and an entire town to house your troops."

Walton smiled again. "You drive a hard bargain, yank," he said. "Very well, I'll sign to these terms." Picking up the pen, he started scribbling, as the men in the police station stared out the few windows that weren't crowded.

"Oh God, Figgins, get the hell outta there!" Mendez shouted, Locke and Angel holding him back, as another officer saw to Butterman. Blood was seeping thorugh his uniform now, and a long tear was in his shirt. "Locke, lemme go man, I gotta get out there!"

"I can't let you, he'll tear you both to pieces!"

Outside, Walton was scribbling along merrily, until Figgins stopped him. "What is it?" he asked, confused.

"You spelled Mendez's name wrong, it's an 'i', not an 'e' in the beginning."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Walton said, correcting the mistake. Scribbling his signature down, he slid the paper over to Figgins, who slowly signed his own name. "Ah, there we go. Now, back to business." With a roar, he pinned Figgins to the ground, the fear in the airman's eyes delicious. "You git! Did you really think that I have to listen to little pieces of paper anymore?" He laughed, a deep and throaty laugh that reminded Figgins of a jungle cat's roar. Walton had won. Taking the paper from the table, Walton tore it to pieces. "You know, I was dying of cancer before they found me, the Major and his boys." He leaned close to Figgins. "So when that boy told me everything, I jumped at the chance. First one was my wife, you know. I didn't want the chip of course, just did exactly what they told me." He started to grin. "You know, for the others, I just went wild, but for you, I'll make a special exception. I'll really feed on your blood."

"Dammit, he's gonna turn Figgins into one of those things, we've gotta help him!"

"Easy, Mendez, we can't do a thing here!" Locke shouted, he and another officer fighting to hold Mendez back from leaping out the window.

Figgins just stared at the barely lightening sky, and started to cry silently. He'd failed to save anyone. As Walton's fangs pierced his skin, he let out a soft whimper, as the vampire drank his blood.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Mendez shouted, straining against the police holding him back.

"Hmmm…rather tasty…" Walton raised his eyebrows. "My, a virgin, at your age?" he said, surprised. "Must compliment you on your chastity, if not your intelligence." Turning away, he looked with zeal on the station. "Now then, what to do about you." Spinning around, he started ordering the ghouls. "Stand fast and hold positions! The station is mine!"

The ghouls obeyed, Walton taking a single step before jumping in through the window Angel was trying to keep closed. He shoved Angel and his shield aside, and tore into the second officer that had been holding Mendez, his blood spraying over Mendez and Locke. The officers inside fired their few remaining rounds, but to no use. Their weapons clicked empty, and Walton stared at them, relishing the fear.

"Do understand, it's for your own good," Walton said, walking up to Butterman, still bleeding despite the hastily applied gauze.

"Go…screw…yourself…" Danny said, sticking his fore and middle fingers up in a "V", blowing a raspberry at Walton.

"Such crass manners," Walton said. Shrugging his shoulders, he threw the officer that had helped Butterman across the room, his spine shattering when he hit the wall.

Figgins could feel the blood spilling out on the pavement, soaking his uniform and…wait…Why did he start to feel strong again? Why was the feeling coming back into his hands? He started to wiggle his legs, slowly sitting up. What was happening? His vision was clearer now at night than it had ever been in day! He could smell things, the ghouls, the people nearby, their sweat, their fear. Then it hit him.

He was a vampire. And all that implied.

One second, Walton was ready to sink his fangs into the fat officer, the next, he was thrown into a nearby building, the brick cracking against the impact, dazing him. "What the bloody hell was that?" he whispered. Looking around, he stared in shock when he saw the body of the airman was gone.

Mendez just stared at Figgins, or what was Figgins. He stood in the police station silently, his chest heaving. "Figgins…you there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Figgins said, his voice soft. "I don't know why I'm still here, but I'm gonna fight this guy, Mendez, with all I've got."

"But…you're a-"

"I know," Figgins said. "But my mom always said God has a plan. This must be part of it." He licked his lips nervously. "I'm really thirsty, Mendez. I'd better get back out there before I start getting ideas." Before Mendez had a chance to argue, Figgins had leapt away through the window again, everyone inside just staring at the broken panes.

With a roar, Figgins slammed Walton in the stomach, using the lessons he'd learned in Security Forces training well. It seemed that vampires could still feel pain, because when Figgins went for the solar plexus, Walton grunted and bent over, grunting in pain. Before Walton could recover, Figgins threw the enemy commander over his heard of ghouls, away from the station. Jumping over the ghouls, using the buildings to jump from, he used half-remembered WWE moves to pound Walton into the pavement. Walton retaliated with a broken piece of brick he had grabbed, nailing Figgins in the right temple. Thrown off balance, Figgins barely had time to react to Walton slamming his fists into his stomach, rolling backwards, kicking up his legs to throw Walton off. Getting up, Figgins started to circle, Walton doing the same.

"You are tenacious, I will say that," Walton said, his hair mussed and uniform wrinkled. "But you forget that I still hold the ghouls in my control, and without me they'll go off on their own, spreading through the countryside! Killing them all off would take weeks, even months! If you kill me, yank, you delay the inevitable!"

"We all have to die, Walton, your time's come!" Roaring, Figgins ran at Walton, the two vampires swinging like prizefighters.

At the station, as a team of officers stabbed at the ghouls with sharpened stakes from the desks, Locke and Mendez ran to the top of the station, Angel staying with Butterman, nearly in tears when they left the pair. "Christ, he's really a vampire, he's a damn vampire!" Mendez muttered. "What the hell was he thinking!"

"At first, maybe a negotiation really was his plan," Locke said. "Now he's just playing by ear."

"So what, we just leave him as a vampire? That's not a plan, Locke, that's a death sentence!"

"Being turned is death, I think," Locke said, hearing the fight off in the distance. "Vampirism only delays the inevitable."

Mendez only looked into the distance, hearing the sounds of the fight. Then, he noticed the sky lighten. Checking his watch, he gasped. It was now quarter to seven, near time for the sun to rise. "No…" he whispered. "Figgins, don't!"

Figgins' face was a bloody mess after Walton was through with it. True, his bones had healed and his wounds closed, but the sheer blood lost was amazing. Figgins was swaying where he stood, fists still ready. "C'mon…is that…really it?" he gasped.

"You fool, you're beaten!" Walton shouted, giving Figgins another punch, the airman tripping backwards. Desperate to hold on a little longer, Figgins crawled backwards on his hands, eyes still fixed on Walton. "Did you really think that just because you're now a vampire, that you could take me on!" He kicked Figgins in the side, savoring the whimper the American let out. "You've failed, yank," Walton said, lifting Figgins into the air by his kneck. "And now, you're going to pay for it." Eyes half closed, Figgins mouth was working desperately, trying to say something. Sighing, Walton loosened his grip. "Too damn merciful, I am," he said. "Now, what are you trying to say?"

"You…lose…"

Walton raised his eyebrow at that, shrugged it off, then raised Figgins into the air again, watching at he slowly squeezed the man's windpipe shut. Balling his right hand into a fist, he wound up to slam Figgins in the side of his head, when he started to feel a slight burning sensation on his face. Looking around for a fire that would have given off the heat, he noticed something off in the distance. Squinting, he felt his eyes start to water and burn as well. Then the realization hit, and his face changed. Gone was the look of victory on his face. Now he was frightened, his hair slowly going white again, his skin starting to wrinkle. Dropping Figgins, he went to run, only to fall on his face. Turning, he saw Figgins crawling up his leg. "You forgot to make a time hack." Figgins said.

It started at Figgins' legs, a slow smoking that turned into a flame. As the sunlight spread up his body, so did the flames. Figgins kept silent, though, his steel grip holding Walton in place.

Walton was no longer the composed and cocky commander of an undead army. Now he was a scared old man not ready to die. He flailed and kicked, Rolling onto his back, he sat up, trying to pry Figgins' hands away. When the sunlight touched his fingers, they lit up, and he started to scream. Trying to crawl away as his fingers became ash, the sunlight hit his body, lighting it up as well.

"My God," Locke said, as the sunlight snaked through the streets. The ghouls burst into ethereal flames, not able to move thanks to their last order. Guns and weapons clattered to the ground, as clothes emptied of their owners. "Now's our chance!" Locke said. "We can still save your friend!"

Mendez didn't answer. He just bolted downstairs and out the door. Skidding to a stop where Walton and Figgins had ended up, he saw an empty set of RAF blues, along with an empty pair of USAF fatigue pants and combat boots. Falling to his knees, he felt the tears in his eyes.

"There's no blouse," Locke said, running up. "He could have crawled away! He could still be out here!"

"You're right," a gravelly voice to Locke's right said. Turning, Locke saw Figgins. More precisely, what was left of Figgins. His stomach had been seared shut, half of his left arm and all of his right gone. The left side of his face was badly burned, and his mouth hung half open, both his eyes glassed over. "Mendez, you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Mendez said, nearly sprinting over, wiping away tears and snot. "Wow, you're already better looking than before," he said, trying to force a smile on his face.

Figgins smiled too. "Please don't leave me like this," he pleaded. "I don't want to…be like him," he said, pointing at the pile of clothes and ash that was Walton. "I don't want to be the bad guy."

Nodding through the tears, Mendez pulled out his pistol. One shot left, meant to save him from becoming like the ghouls, now he had to use it on his last surviving friend. Raising the gun, he sniffed again, his hand shaking. It was Figgins' smile that was doing it. That deformed, yet still warm, smile. Closing his eyes and pressing the barrel against the side of Figgins' head, Mendez pulled the trigger, then collapsed, weeping. Locke simply went to attention and saluted, as the sun climbed into the sky.

* * *

By 0743, Her Majesty's Royal Infantry had moved into the town, helping to clear away the debris and take stock of the survivors. A medic saw to PC Butterman, as he and Angel discussed police movies. It seemed that a hook from Butterman's vest had pierced his skin, the vest itself doing it's job to protect Butterman from being stabbed by a sharp object. And a ghouls mouth is nothing if not sharp.

"Here," Locke said, handing Mendez a bottle of water. "All in all, we still have at least 78% of the town still alive, more than we ever could have hoped for if Figgins hadn't…done what he thought was needed." Mendez just drank the water. "Also, a member of the nobility is coming in. Now before you say anything, he's part of the reason London's not entirely dead."

"Yay for him," Mendez said, taking another sip. "Who is this guy?"

"Sir Hellsing," a female voice said behind them. Turning around, seeing Locke stiffen, Mendez saw a woman standing nearby, a bandage over her left eye, still stained with blood. "You're the ranking constable here?"

"I am, ma'a…sir," Locke said, doing his best to get the proper term. "Though I must give credit to Airman Mendez, he was the one who rallied us to battle."

"Hey," Mendez said, getting up and giving a nod to Sir Hellsing. "_A reverse crossdresser? Or maybe he's just wearing a stuffed bra._"

"You mean he was the one who kept the defenses up?" Integra said, surprised. Locke nodded. "Amazing for someone who's never gotten training."

"Hey, I'm a little pissed from being up all night and nearly getting killed, so let's keep the 'chair force' cracks to a minimum, okay!" Mendez snapped.

"Of course I wasn't referring to your branch of service, Airman, merely that you haven't been trained to fight vampires."

"Yeah, well I…" Mendez paused. "What do you mean 'trained'?"

"Of course, it would be secret training, but now that the world knows, I can tell you that the Hellsing organization would have trained you against these and other dark threats."

"You're telling me…that you're in charge of the…the vampire killers around here?" Mendez said in a low voice. Sir Hellsing nodded. Without a word of warning, Mendez rushed Sir Hellsing, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her head against the nearest building, his time on the street flooding back into his memory. "WHAT THE FUCK BITCH!"

"Mendez, put her…him…put Sir Hellsing down!" Locke shouted, some of the nearby soldiers raising their weapons.

"You want me dead, let'em shoot Locke! If not, stay the fuck outta my way!" He pushed harder on Integra's throat, threatening to cut off her breathing. "So how'd you drop the ball this time, _hijo de puta_, too busy looking for some other queer to screw you!"

"Mendez, stop this instant!" Locke shouted.

"This bastard isn't part of my chain of command, Locke, so just shut up or kill me!" Mendez shouted, his voice trembling as Integra tried to push against his grip. Hearing a metal noise, Mendez looked down around Sir Hellsing's hip to see…"A sword?" He couldn't take it anymore. He broke down, started laughing like mad. "A fucking sword, Locke! That's what your vampire hunters use! Screw guns, screw helicopters, here's a _fucking sword!_" Quickly, the laughs turned to sobs, Mendez pounding on the ground in frustration.

"We all dropped the ball, airman," Integra said, readjusting her coat. "Our enemies forced us to. They deceived us, they led us around, and they struck when we were most vulnerable." Kneeling next to Mendez, Sir Hellsing bowed her head. "I know how it feels to lose someone close as well."

Locke hadn't heard what Sir Hellsing had said, all he saw was Mendez punch Sir Hellsing in the face and go back to sobbing. Getting up, Integra nodded, and walked to Locke. "See that he's looked after. As soon as this is straightened out, give me a full report."

"Y-y-yes, sir!" Locke said, shocked that Mendez had done such a thing, Angel and Butterman staring as well, as the soldiers nearby lowered their weapons and went back to work.

* * *

**Yes, you read that correctly, I just had an OC hit Integra and survive. Anyway, that's it for the English part of the story, but we've still got a chapter of three to go until the end! Stay tuned, film at 11!**


	18. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

Courage. Science. Faith. Secrecy. Zealotry.

Manhattan island was now fully contained, National and Coast Guard landing units on shorelines under control, reinforcing the two lines that were approaching Times Square. Fire companies had come down from the Bronx, but the idea to move the ladders was quickly abandoned, the drivers having trouble even moving five feet forward without risking tipping the trucks over. High rise trucks ran to and fro, rescuing trapped civilians from skyscrapers, as the police gave cover against any ghouls that might have slipped through the lines. Now, instead of a moving line of vehicles and men, the forces in the city let the ghouls come to them, a massive force of undead coming at both forces.

"The three shall spread their blackened wings," the Saints said, gunning down ghouls at an alarming rate. Det. McClane only watched with suspicion.

"As soon as this is done, we're putting the cuffs on those bastards," he said to one of the other detectives in the line. "We're not letting them get off for what they've done."

"Agreed," the man said, reloading his weapon. "So what's the word from the other end?"

"They're paused to, they're aren't moving until there's none of these things left. But the Ghostbusters are telling us to stay put, they want to move forward and check that there's no residual PKE."

"What?" the detective asked.

"They want to make sure there's no bad ghosts," McClane said. "And given what's happening I'm not gonna disagree!"

"So are we still ready to go?" Murph said. "I don't want to wait around to get arrested for doing the right thing."

"Our transporters are waiting for us in nearby, we follow their instructions to escape," Connor said. "One of them's a bit bitchy from what I've been told, though, so keep your temper in control, Murph."

"I always keep my temper under control!" he shouted, turning away from the ghouls. "You're the one who always says I never have any control!"

"Then why aren't you shooting the ghouls?" Connor said. Murph stopped, then growled, turning back to the ghouls. "Da, are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Connor," Il Duce said, reloading his pistols. "My old bones just don't move as fast anymore. I think I just need a little rest after this is all over."

"We can rest when we meet up with the transporters," Connor said. Firing, out of nowhere he blurted out, "Rock would'a loved this."

"Aye," Murph said. "It'd be his kinda thing, blasting away, all the targets you could want, no police to stop you." He smiled a little. "Maybe this is his little gift to us."

"Yeah, it'd be a stupid move befitting him," Connor said. "We have a few more hours until dawn, we have to make sure to meet with the transporters then."

"Got it," Murph said, nailing a large ghoul in both eyes.

* * *

"Has it gone down at all?" Ray asked Egon.

"Marginally," Egon said, standing atop Ecto-1 with his PKE goggles. "There's still a large concentration, and it's almost like it's grouping together at a focal point, which leads me to believe there's a conduit or channel of some kind, a strong emotion for the PKE to collect."

"I'll get the giga meter, maybe we can pinpoint the source," Ray said, as Winston and Peter fired away with their packs. Jumping in and out of Ecto-1, Ray scanned the area ahead of him, until he located the location of the emotional energy. "There! It's coming from Madison and 57th!"

"Four buildings to search," Egon said. "If we take out the focal point, the residual PK energy should disperse quickly."

"We've got a plan!" Ray shouted. "Once we're done with these things, we can move on!"

"And after we eliminate the vampire," Egon said. "We still haven't found any trace of him, he could still be roaming the city."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Ray said, pacing.

"I have a suggestion," Harris said to the two. "If you leave the vampire alone, two things will happen. One," he said, holding up a finger. "The creature will soon be driven by instinct to feed and will strike again, only making a mistake in the process and leading to it's destruction. Two," he held up another finger. "The creature will enter a hibernative state, and he'll eventually be buried forever."

"I honestly like the second option better," Ray said. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, right now we just have to worry about clearing up this mess."

The Ghostbusters' line had halted at 41st street, firefighters spraying the horde, as the Hibernians and Sons fired on any who didn't get vaporized. Tommy and Jimmy were up on 62, hitting the monsters from above, free from retaliation.

"Tom, I gotta be honest, Sheila's gonna kill me for doing this," Jimmy said, as he held the nozzle. "Think the spray's wide enough?"

"I don't know, they didn't cover spraying zombies at the academy!" Tommy shouted. "Now can you please focus, I don't want us to get caught up in anything stupid!"

Down on the ground, the team of 62 truck kept up the spray, a pair of NYPD giving them cover. "Probie, how're we doing on pressure!" Franco shouted.

"We're still good!" Garrity yelled. "Both nozzles! Now tell me we're almost done!"

"Not even, probie!" Lou shouted. "The streets full of these damn things! We'll be done when it's all clear!"

Then it happened. A manhole burst open behind the truck, and two suited arms burst up, a black suited man climbing out, then another. Four black suited men in total climbed out, one of them bearing a large burn on his left side. An older one was missing his left leg, a third half of his face. Over the noise, the two officers with the truck didn't hear them until they were being eaten.

"Shit! Franco, tighten the stream!" Lou shouted, he and Franco turning the hose around, Franco tightening the nozzle so it would not only melt the ghouls, but push them back, maybe even break them apart. "This is 62, they're coming from the sewers, get some more cops over here, we lost our escorts!" Lou barked into his radio.

"_62, roger, escorts on the way._"

Niels, the driver, watched from his mirrors, silently praying nothing would happen to the crew, when a melting hand hit his windshield. Shocked, he looked ahead to see that without the second hose, the monsters were disintegrating more slowly, and able to reach the truck. Not thinking, he shifted to reverse and hit the gas, forgetting that the ladder was still up and that Garrity was reading the gauges. Garrity managed to jump away. Tommy and Jimmy couldn't. Remembering the ladder was still up, he slammed on the brakes. On the ladder, Tommy and Jimmy tried to hold on, but the sudden movement threw Jimmy off balance, and he toppled headfirst over the edge, grabbing the hose to hold on.

"Jimmy!" Tommy shouted. Scrambling up to the top of the ladder, he saw Jimmy hanging over the monsters, the lack of water meaning that they weren't disintegrating anymore.

Niels jumped to the back and joined the others, screaming that they were in trouble. "Lou! Lou, we gotta do something!"

"I'm thinking!" Lou shouted. Suddenly, he got an idea. "Probie, Niels, grab the axe and the halogen, use that shit on those things!"

Niels nodded and grabbed the heavy axe, the very symbol of firefighting. Garrity was a little more hesitant.

"Lou, no, there's no way, Lou, not with those things, I'm not getting that close!"

"Garrity!" Lou shouted, using the real name. "You're a firefighter, you're supposed to man up when shit like this happens! Now grab the bar, get over there with Niels, and swing that thing like you're Goddamn Jeter!"

It was like someone had hit Garrity's pause button. He didn't move, he didn't flinch, he just stood there.

"I think he overloaded!" Franco shouted. "What now?"

Seeing the probie had frozen, Niels ran over, leaned close, and said, "If you do this, I'll set you up on a date with my sister. She's 22, she's blonde, and she's a C."

In a single motion, Garrity grabbed the bar from it's rack and attacked the nearest ghoul.

"How come you never did that for me!" Franco shouted, spraying the ghoul without a leg.

"Cause you didn't need the help," Niels said, shocking Franco, who thought that Niels had found out about his tryst with Niels' sister.

"Jimmy, come up, c'mon, that's hose won't hold you forever!" Tommy said, edging closer and closer to his cousin. "Dammit Jimmy, grab my hand!"

Jimmy was petrified. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, he just kept staring down at the monsters. He didn't notice his hand slipping, he just fixated on one monster.

Shiela, his wife, was down there, grabbing at him.

"Tommy," he said, not looking back up. "Take care of my kid."

"No! Jimmy, I'm not letting you fa-" Tommy froze too, seeing Jimmy's wife. "Jimmy, Jimmy, just come back up, she's dead, you have to leave her!"

"Tom, do you really think you can pull me up?" Jimmy said. "The guys are busy down there…you'd better help them-" Before he said another word, Jimmy's glove slipped from the hose, and he landed on the thing that was his wife, the horde enveloping them both.

"JIMMY!" Tommy tried to scan the horde, but he couldn't see his cousing anywhere, just a gray mass. He didn't hear Niels and Garrity smacking the ghouls to pieces. He didn't notice Franco or Lou turn the hose back on the mass, or the gunshots of the reinforcements from the Sons. The only time he moved was when one of the Sons dragged him off the ladder and set him down on the sidewalk. He didn't say a word.

"_62, come in,_" Reilly said over the radio. "_62, did the help get there!_"

"It got here," Tommy said, running his hand through his hair. "Chief…Jimmy's dead."

Silence. "_I'm sorry, Tom…I really am. Is anyone else hurt?_"

"Nah…Garrity's no probie anymore, though." Slowly, Tommy broke down, shouting and swearing and making a racket. Seeing that one of the black suited ghouls hadn't fully decomposed, he ran over and started kicking it, stomping it's still moving head with his boot. "You asshole!" he shouted. "You wanted to start shit, we'll you got it! FDNY here, ring bell for free ass kicking!"

"Why's he shouting at that thing!" Garrity said, looking back at Tommy for a second.

"He's not," Lou answered. "How's that blessed halogen working out?"

"Blessed?" Garrity said, looking at the bar. "What do you mean?"

"The priest blessed the truck, genius!" Franco barked. "Anything on the truck is blessed too!"

"Oh," Garrity said. "Hey Niels, about that date-"

"You don't want it," Franco said. "She snores louder than a jet engine."

"How the hell do you know that!" Niels shouted, glaring at Franco.

* * *

An hour later, the ghouls started to taper off, and the Sons and Hibernians moved forward, leaving the NYPD and National Guard to hold the area. Up North, however, only the Saints were walking forward. They didn't take two steps before Det. McClane tackled Connor, two other officers grabbing Il Duce and Murph.

"Connor McManus, you're under arrest for vigilantism, murder, theft, and reckless endangerment!" McClane shouted. "You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law!"

"You bastards!" Murph yelled. "We're doing the right thing, you can't put us away for that!"

"You have the right to speak to an attorney! If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you!"

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you," Il Duce prayed, as the cuffs tightened around his hands.

"Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you!"

Out of nowhere, bullets hit the ground near them, the cops hugging the suspects instead of running as the shooter had expected.

"Dammit!" Revy shouted. "We don't get these guys, we don't get paid! Rock, tell Dutch to get the boat warmed up, I'm getting those idiots outta there!"

"But they're cops!" Rock shouted. "And they just took out those things! If you keep shooting at them, they'll kill you!"

"Please, Rock. Movies always show a huge gunfight, but cops really don't pull the trigger unless they're really scared." She spat. "Pussies. Now get Dutch and tell him to get ready!" Not willing to argue, Rock pulled a cell phone from his pocket, as Revy ran towards the cops, firing all the way.

"Don't hit them!" Connor shouted. "If you do, we won't go with you!"

"What!" Revy barked, reloading quickly, as the police, and now National Guard, started to fire back. "What's wrong with you idiots! They're cops, who cares if they get shot!"

"We can hear everything!" McClane shouted, firing back. Then, he felt something move below him, and he felt Connor start to roll back side to side, throwing off his aim. "Dammit, stay still!"

"Can't when you're doing His work," Connor said, finally rolling McClane off. Reaching into his pockets, he grabbed the key Agent Smecker had given him and unlocked the cuffs, throwing the officers off his brother and Il Duce, as Revy covered them. "Why'd you come to us? You were supposed to be waiting at the boat."

"Hey, we don't get you guys out, we don't get paid!" Revy barked. "Now c'mon! Before I hand you all over for the reward instead!"

"All units, all units, be advised, Saints are running, be on lookout for three males, black peacoats and a female in a skirt and cowboy boots, be advised, female is armed and highly dangerous, she will shoot you!"

"There's a zombie attack and you're worried about a bunch of criminals?" one of the National Guardsmen shouted. "What are you, nuts!"

"They're killers, we have to bring them in!" McClane barked. "I've dealt with bastards like this before, I know the type, you don't stop them when you find them, they just keep popping up again and again!" Motioning to some of the other police, McClane and the cops ran after the five, leaving the National Guard and firefighters in the area to deal with the rest of the ghouls.

"So you're the transporters?" Connor asked, as the five ran down Park Ave. "Where's the other two?"

"They're with the boat!" Rock shouted. "Why'd you guys act so early! We would have handled ourselves, but you just put us in the sights of the police _and_ federal government!"

"It's not important what they know!" Murph shouted. "We're working under His direction!"

Before Connor could speak, he heard his phone ringing. Grabbing it, he flipped it open. "Connor."

"_Connor, don't do it,_" Smecker said. "_Don't leave here, Connor, or you'll be up against forces I can't help you against._"

"We'll be fine, agent Smecker," Connor said. "We've always been fine."

"_You've teamed up with religious fanatics, Connor, the same kind that hate me for what I am, and hate others because of what they choose to believe!_" Connor could feel the rage in Smecker's voice leeching through the phone. "_Do you know how many people have been killed by this Catholic hit group, Connor?_"

"Evil men, Smecker, men who deserved what they got."

"_And do you know how many innocent people they've killed?_" Smecker said, catching Connor off guard. "_They've wiped out entire towns, Connor. Remember that agent I told you about, the nutcase, Mulder? He's got an entire file on the group, Connor, and they've murdered anyone who got in their way!_ _What do you say to that, Connor!_"

"Give me some proof-"

"_You want proof?_" Over the connection, Connor heard the sound of papers rustling. "_June, 1984, two Jewish men found dead in Boston, cause of death, multiple gunshot wounds, a small cross found nearby. Now given the nature of Boston, the cops quickly looked towards the few white supremacist groups, though all claimed innocence, and all had alibis. No one ever found the killer._" Another sound of rustling papers. "_March, 1993, Philadelphia, a Hindi doctor and his family are all found dead in their home. No witnesses were even brought in and the only evidence found was that a call had been made from a local church rectory._" Connor started to slow now. "_Los Angeles, 1995, a Muslim mosque is burnt down. All evidence pointed to a local convent, but after thorough investigation, no suspects were ever brought to trial, though locals did report a group of nuns leaving the night before the fire._"

"Hey, Paddy, let's move already!" Revy barked. "Boat's not gonna wait forever!"

"It's not true…" Connor said. "Bishop Maxwell would never authorize something this heinous-"

"_Oh, so you're led by a bishop?_" Smecker said coyly, Connor growling that he let the name slip. "_No wonder. I think Agent Mulder could work with this information_-"

Grabbing the phone out of Connor's hand, Il Duce put it to his mouth. "The laws of God trumph any law made by man," he said, before throwing the phone on the ground and stomping on it, before patting his son on the shoulder. "Do not let man test your faith, Connor. You know the truth of what we do."

"Yeah…You're right, Da."

"Um, this is all very touching," Rock said, his whole body shaking. "But those cops are still chasing us! We have to get to the boat before they arrest all of us!"

"Don't worry," Connor said, getting up. "We'll get out long before they know where your boat is."

"A stupid boat!" Murph shouted. "Why on Earth should we take a boat! A plane would get us out in five hours, not days!"

"Hey, don't got shooting your mouth off about the _Lagoon_!" Revy barked. "Dutch'll shoot your ass and throw you overboard, and that means no pay, and I _like_ getting paid for my work!"

"Avarice leads to more sin and hate," Il Duce said.

"Go screw yourself, you old bastard!" Revy shouted, before a round smacked off the road. Looking behind her, Revy saw the cops chasing them, the bald bastard that had tackled Connor leading the way. "Dammit! We can't let them get to the boat, follow me!"

"How're you even gonna escape, genius!" Murph shouted. "Coast Guard's got the entire island locked off, we're can't slip by!"

"We've got ways to improvise!" Rock shouted, flinching away as a bullet nearly caught him in the arm.

"Remember, don't kill them!" Connor shouted. "They're just doing their jobs, we can't fault them for that."

"Screw you!" Revy growled, firing back. "Pigs've always given me shit, I'm gonna give it back!"

In a smooth motion, Il Duce turned to Revy and put his weapon to her head. "You will not kill men who seek righteousness," he said.

"Revy!" Rock shouted. "We're not here to fight! We're here to get paid, remember!" He dared a smile. "How can you use that money if you're dead!"

Roaring, Revy shifted her aim to a nearby power line, firing at the fuse box near the cop's position. The box flashed, and McClane and the other cops ducked, fearing electrocution. Flipping the police off, Revy and the others ran away from park, towards the East River Drive, and made their way to the Ward's Island bridge. "Well what now, Ms. Getaway Artist!" Murph shouted. "We can't get cross that bridge without getting spotted!"

"Good thing I'm here then," Dutch said, he and Benny coming out from behind the cover of the trees that surrounded a group of apartments nearby. "I sincerely hope Revy didn't cause you all too much trouble."

"She was fine. Your man here's pretty smart too," Connor said, motioning to Rock.

"Yeah, Rock does have a good head on his shoulders," Dutch said, holding a pack of Spirits out to Connor. "Now, since we've had to shift the schedule, I've decided that the best thing to do is just speed out. All the confusion around here, we can slip out without another word. We've got contacts up north, they'll get us out."

"First things first though," Benny said, jogging to the water, to a floating tarp on the water. "Our transportation!" Pulling the tarp away, he revealed…

"A rubber raft!" Murph laughed. "Yeah, that'll work against a Goddamn battleship!"

"Cutter," Dutch said, correcting Murph. "It's temporary, pal. Once we reach the marina near Fort Totten, we'll get in our usual ride."

"And then what?" Connor asked, as Il Duce simply got inside the small craft.

"We head north, up towards Canada. Our contacts speak more French than English, but I should manage to explain to them what we need."

"Je crois que je ferais mieux de manipuler les traductions," Connor said. "Just so we don't have any misunderstandings."

Dutch chuckled. "I think that's what we'll do," he said, motioning for them to all get in the boat. Starting the motor, Revy laughed evilly, as the rubber boat set off.

A small response craft armed with two M249s floated off shore near Mill Rock, the pilot watching the fires in the city slowly die out. "Damn, this is messed up."

"No really," the fore gunner said, nervously keeping his weapon shouldered. "I thought we were just having Armageddon for the hell of it!"

"Hey guys, I think I've got something!" the aft gunner shouted. "High speed, moving away from the Ward Island bridge!"

"Enemy?" the pilot asked.

"_This is Det. John McClane to all law enforcement!_" the radio suddenly belted. "_Broadcasting on all frequencies! Be on the lookout for federal fugitives, be warned, they are escaping with escort, over!_"

The pilot looked at the gunners and the other sailor in the boat and grabbed the radio. "Det. McClane, this is Petty Officer Wern, Coast Guard, did you see the suspects escape by boat, over?"

"_They Goddamn shouted they were escaping by boat!_" McClane answered, which was good enough for Wern. Gunning the engine, he spun the boat around, his engines quickly gaining on the relatively cheap skip.

"Dutch, we've got company!" Rock shouted. "Coast Guard, they've got machine guns!"

"Don't worry Rock, I've thought this through!" Dutch said, aiming the rubber boat to the RFK bridge. "Revy, give us some cover, keep them off us!"

"On it, Dutch!" Revy said cheerfully. Kneeling down, she started firing at the boat, until Connor pulled her back.

"No!" he barked, grabbing her guns. "Don't kill those men, they're only-"

"Goddamnit, this is why I hate vigilantes!" Dutch barked, pulling out his revolver. Murph and Il Duce pulled their own weapons, putting Rock and Benny in the middle, as Connor and Revy struggled.

"Crap, I think they've got a…dammit, what're they called, one of those zombies on board!" the fore gunner shouted. "They're attacking one another!"

"Then open up on them, we can't let them escape if they do!" Wern ordered. Clicking off the safety, the gunner opened up, his weapon making small jets in the dark water near the enemy boat.

"Dutch, can you please focus on getting us outta here!" Benny shouted, as Dutch swerved to avoid the gunfire.

"First things first, you let go of my crew!" Dutch shouted, holding his weapon at Connor.

"As long as you order her to not fire on those sailors!" Connor replied. "We won't let men like that be killed!"

"You're criminals, why should you care!" Revy shouted. "Cops die all the time, world keeps on turning!"

"We're not criminals, we're doing God's work!" Murph barked, as a bullet from the response boat tore a hole in his coat.

"Yeah, he's doing real well at protecting you from those bullets!" Revy grunted.

"Dutch, I've got an idea!" Rock said. "How long until we reach Riker's Island!"

"Not long, so talk fast!"

* * *

On the shores of Riker's Island, armed guards stood at the ready, not to protect against any attack, but to prevent a mass exodus.

"_Rikers Island, be advised, this is Petty Officer Wern, USCG, we are pursuing armed and possibly transformed fugitives, respond, over!_"

"**Coast Guard, this is Riker Control, none of our people have reported anything, we'll tell you when we do, over.**"

As the guard's on the shore listened, they heard a buzzing noise off in the distance. One of them grabbed their binoculars, and screamed, "I've got'em! A few hundred yards out, call Control!" he shouted, as his fellow guards fired at the craft.

"**Coast Guard, Coast Guard, be advised, we have suspect craft-**"

"_Cease fire, Rikers, you're shooting at us!_"

From behind South Brother Island, Dutch moved the boat out slow, keeping close to the opposite shore. "Rock, I gotta hand it to you, the simplest plans always work best," he said.

"Yeah, great," Revy said, still holding onto her weapons. "Now let go of my guns, paddy, or I'll drill you a new hole!" Connor did release her, and the ride to the marina was tense and silent. Landing the boat at Beechherst, Revy jacked the nearest car and sped them to the marina, where the _Lagoon_, carried there by cargo plane under the title "movie prop", was waiting for them. Speeding past the empty Coast Guard station near Kings Point, the Saints settled into the cabin, as Rock and Benny contacted the Vatican. Revy only twirled her guns, waiting for Dutch's word to move.

* * *

"Okay, it's looking pretty clear out there," J said, looking out the office windows. "You all get to the other floors, tell everyone it's clear to leave."

"What about you!" the middle aged worker said. "You not honestly going to stay here alone with her, are you?"

"Alana's a bitch, yeah, but I know how to handle her," J said. "You want to stay, though, I'm not gonna complain."

"Yeah right," the man said. "I still don't know who you are, but I know you helped us live through this, so I'm grateful. Just know I _will_ have my buddies in the department find out just who you really are."

"Uh huh, you do that," J said, his eyes focused on Alana's little nest. He barely registered it when the man walked out, shutting the door. "Okay Alana, it's just you and me. Why not come out and talk."

Alana just grunted, and J saw a pair of glowing orange eyes staring back. "That…is not supposed to happen."

Pulling Ecto-1 up to the building, the Ghostbusters and their escort of NYPD fanned out, Egon and Ray pinpointing the source of the spiritual energy in the IBM building. Strapping on their packs, Winston kept at a distance with the SMAW, just in case.

"Hang on," Ray said. "I'm still reading live signals from inside, there's a few dozen survivors in there!"

Before Egon could argue, an explosion blew out a window on the fourth floor burst open, and a man jumped out, tucking and rolling as he landed. Behind him, a woman followed, her hair wild and feral, her eyes alight with an orange fire. Her once designer clothing had been nearly torn to shreads, hanging in taters across her pale figure.

"Ex-girlfriend?" Peter asked the man.

"Shoot her!" J shouted. "Shoot her already, use those proton packs of yours!"

"Can't!" Ray shouted. "Shooting her with a proton stream would kill her! Switch to slime mode!" With a click, the three ghostbusters had the slime blower extended from their wands, a green ooze splashing over the woman. She roared and screamed, trying to flee the onslaught. The three men spread out, hitting her from all directions, the stream of slime slowly eating away. What no one else could see without the PKE goggles was the slow dispersal of psychic energy from the body. Joined together, the spirits of the recently dead were angry, strong, violent. The slime eased them away, helped them pass on to whatever waited for them. It wasn't the Ghostbusters' job to worry about that, though, just to get them out. Soon, the woman was absolutely covered in slime, collapsed onto the pavement.

"How's the reading?" Peter asked, still holding his wand ready.

"And…she's clear," Ray said, lifting the goggles off his face. Walking over, he bent down to try and help the woman, when the black suited man who had jumped out the window pulled him away. "Hey, what're you doing!"

"I wouldn't recommend getting that close," he said, before the police pulled him away from Dr. Stantz. "Hey, hey, hey! I know this girl, and he should not be getting so close! In fact, you know what, just go ahead and zap her right now, it'll save us all some trouble!"

"What're you, nuts!" one of the cops said, before Alana tackled Ray with a roar. Dropping the black suited man, the two officers rant to help Egon, Peter and Winston drag the woman off of Ray. Alana just batted them away, before hungrily staring down at Ray.

"How bout it, buddy," she said, her mouth foaming. "I need it, _bad!_"

"Well I don't have it!" Ray said, trying to squirm away. Alana just pinned his arms. As the foam from her mouth his the ground, Ray could actually see…_things_ swimming around inside. Then, a flash of light threw Alana across the street.

"Wow…anyone get the number on that truck?" Winston asked, before he heard the sound of metal being torn apart. Looking over, Winston and the others felt their jaws drop.

Alana's skin was being stretched apart, metal wiring and plates falling to the ground. He face was reptilian, yet covered in a reddish fur-like substance. Her yellow eyes were slits, and her arms soon split in two, giving her four total. With a roar, she stalked forward, the cops firing their weapons, even useless as they were.

"Hey Alana!" With a growl, Alana looked over to see J toting a tube on his shoulder. "Play with this little toy!" Pulling the trigger, J let loose, the warhead blasting Alana apart, spraying the area with sickly yellow goop. "Wooo! Now that's makin' it hot," J said, strolling towards the Ghostbusters and cops. "Now, gentlemen, I need you to look right here and smile," he said, putting on a pair of sunglasses and pulling out a small, silvery device with a red strip on the top. A brilliant flash later, and the Ghostbusters and their escorts were staring dumbly at the man in the black suit. "Wha…" Peter said, before J ran over and hugged them.

"Oh, thank you!" J screamed, trying to sound as hysterical as possible. "If you didn't get here, and you didn't blow that thing up, we'd all be dead!"

"They did it?" Turning, the Ghostbusters saw a small group of people coming out of the IBM building.

"Yeah!" J shouted. "They blew up what caused all this," he shouted, the crowd gathering in awe.

"We…we did?" Egon asked, Ray still a little shaky.

"Damn right you did!" J said, helping them up. "You blew that monster halfway to hell!"

Now the crowd was starting to cheer. "Alright, Ghostbusters!" "You guys rock!" "You saved us!"

"Yeah they did!" J shouted, before being pulled aside from the forming crowd by the older office worker.

"Alright kid, time to spill," the old man said, holding J against a newsstand. "Who the hell are you, and who're you working for!"

"I already told you," J said, as a hand grasped the old man on the shoulder. Turning, he saw another man in a black suit, wearing a pair of black sunglasses. In the distance, away from the crowd, a black van with the city seal had pulled up, a group of men and women, all in black suits, seemed to be working. Turning back to face the man from the office, the middle aged worker felt a tinge of fear seeing him putting the sunglasses back on. "NYPD, Division 6, your best kept secret." With that, J walked off, leaving the man to question himself, as the other agent gave J a small communicator. Taking it, J called up L. "Hey, L, you worried about me?"

"Not anymore," L said, laughing with relief. "So, how's Alana?"

"We'd better get to work on talking down daddy," J said apologetically. "Alana had to be neutralized. Is he still a fan of the Mets?"

"Of course," L said. "I'll have the tickets by tomorrow."

"Glad to hear it," J said, going with the teams to swept the rest of Manhattan.

* * *

"The pounding on the door's stopped," one of the priests said to O'Connor. "The area's emptying out all around, we think that the auxiliaries have managed to make enough of a dent."

"Then now's our chance." Nodding to the guards, O'Connor and Vincenzo marched up the aisle of the church, Raju stopping in midsentence to stare at the two, confused. "Msng. Raju, you are under arrest for attempted murder."

Raju and the civilians just stared at the two officers, their minds unable to work through what they had just heard. "Officers, you must be mistaken," Raju said. "I am merely doing God's work-"

"Yeah, God always has the nuts doing his work," Vincenzo said. Walking up to the pulpit, he shoved Raju into it and pulled out a pair of handcuffs belting out the Miranda.

"Uh, Vincenzo," O'Connor said.

"Not now, man, I'm cuffing the suspect!" Vincenzo grunted.

"No, officer, really, you'd better look at this!" one of the guards said.

"I said wait!" Vincenzo shouted, forcing Raju down. Finished, Vincenzo let himself smile, standing Raju up in front of the churc. "Okay! Let's get him…outta…here…" His smile disappeared.

The civilians were all standing, glaring madly at Vincenzo, O'Connor, the two young priests and guards. "You underestimate the power of faith," Raju mumbled. "I doubt my flock would react so mercifully to you trying to put me in handcuffs."

"You know this won't last Raju," O'Connor dared to say, amidst the quickly angering mob. "Even if you take us out, what about those men outside?"

"They are loyal to Iscariot, and so to me," he said. "They will follow without question."

"And the government, dumbass?" Vincenzo spat. "They won't let you run roughshod over them even after something like this!"

"They will if they don't want many of their secrets revealed," Raju said with a sneer. "Now I suggest you let me go, officer, before my flock decides to take action."

O'Connor just stood in place in front of the pulpit, as the civilians inside the church crowded around both the guards and the two young Iscariots, as another group slowly circled O'Connor. Nervously, O'Connor's hand hovered over his sidearm. If it came down to it, he and the others were going to survive, brainwashed cultists be damned.

A loud knocking came to the door. "Fr. Raju! It's the Hibernians, please open the doors!"

"Help!" Raju shouted, as loud as he could. "They're in here, the ones who caused all this!" Before O'Connor or anyone else could say word, a group of men in green combat suits ran in, ordering people to get down on the ground and raising their weapons. The guards quickly did so, not willing to be killed by their own allies. The crowd, however, didn't realize this, and charged both the Hibernians, the guards, the two priests, and O'Connor and Vincenzo. Pulling out his mace, O'Connor managed to get three in the eyes before he ran out. Pulling out his taser, he fired before it was knocked away, a cry of pain letting him know he hit someone. That was as much good as he could do before he had to pull out his baton and start swinging.

He caught a fat middle aged man on the left side of his leg, then countered a woman trying to grab at his ankles. They pressed on from all sides, fearful zealots clinging to their leader in the crisis. The sound of the baton smacking flesh drowned the sounds of the Hibernians out from O'Connor's ears.

"You hear them!" Raju shouted, as O'Connor climbed the stairs of the pulpit. "My flock will not be defeated! Once they realize the power I have given them through God's Word, we will-"

"Just shut up!" Vincenzo shouted. Forcing the man up, with a mighty roar he threw Raju over the side of the pulpit into his charging flock. His look of shock disappeared after a minute of being trampled under the feet of his charging flock.

"What the-the hell is going on here!" Sean shouted, slamming another madman in the gut with the butt of his rifle.

"The monsignor!" one of the young priests yelled, wrestling with a teenager. "He's brainwashed them, made them think he's their true leader!"

"Well that's nuts!" Sean shouted, kicking at a woman who looked ready to claw his eyes out.

"Get off-OW! Get off of me!" Raju screamed, as a mob of legs and feet kicked and stepped on him. "I am your leader-AH! Get off me! OOF! AH!"

"Well shit!" Vincenzo yelled, as he and O'Connor beat back the mob that was trying to climb the pulpit and get to them. "What now!"

"Those green suited guys will get'em off!" O'Connor barked. "Just hold oooooOH NO!" In a flash, an arm grabbed O'Connor and pulled him into the crowd, his right hand grabbing for his hip to no avail. Vincenzo tried to grab for his friend, but nearly got dragged in himself. Still beating at the mob, he kicked a rather large man back into the others for a few seconds respite.

Coming up from the basement, Carter couldn't believe what he saw. The black suited guards and a group of men in green combat gear were beating back the civilians, who were in some kind of mob. Charging out, he flicked out his taser and fired, dropping one of the civilians. Grabbing his mace, he sprayed a man and woman in the face, both dropping to the ground, rubbing furiously at their faces. Pulling out his baton, Carter charged through the crowd, bringing his baton down on the elbow of a young man that tried to punch him in the face, then slammed it on the arm of an old woman who attempted to slam a pen into his eye. Behind him, he thought he heard a man yelling at him to stop, but he couldn't, he just saw the mob practically absorb O'Connor into itself. Putting on a burst of speed, he fought the crowd, only to trip over something on the ground. Looking to his feet, he saw that he had fallen over Raju, who looked up at Carter with pleading eyes. "P-p-p-please," he whimpered. "H-help…me…" he said, tears streaking his face.

Carter cursed. "_Serve and protect, dammit,_" he thought. Forcing Raju up, he threw the man into a pew and out of the path of the mob, running back to help O'Connor. Beating away the fanatics, he beat away a circle of people kicking and punching, until he saw O'Connor, bleeding and bruised, coughing and wheezing. "Jesus, you look like hell."

"Been worse…" O'Connor hacked. "Remember…that brawl outside here…last St. Paddy's?" O'Connor curled in on himself, going into a fresh fit of coughing.

"Don't worry, pal, you'll be fine soon," Carter said, standing up. "Medic! We need a medic over here!"

"Help…Vincenzo…" O'Connor wheezed. Turning at the sound of footsteps, Carter turned to see a trio of the green suited men running to them, as the rest took care of the angry mob. Nodding to them, he ran to the stairs for the pulpit, and started hitting the zealots from behind, taking their legs from under them, pushing them back and down the stairs. Fighting his way to the top, he saw one of them with his hands around Vincenzo, a large man with big, sausage fingers. Vincenzo's eyes were slowly shutting, his hands going limp. Smacking the man on his arms and shoving him away, Carter knelt down ot Vincenzo, felt a small but steady pulse on Vincenzo's neck, and laughed, shaking his head. "You're too dumb to even die," he said.

"Yeah…one of my endering qualities…" Vincenzo whispered.

"Monsignor!" Sean shouted, running up to the Iscariot. "Monsignor, are you okay!"

"I'm fine…" Raju coughed. "Those police…they're with the vampire…the whole NYPD-"

"Shut it!" Turning in shock, Raju turned to see Mahon running towards them, determination burning in his eyes. "Don't believe a word he says, men, he's a liar! He is the one who whipped up the civilians, he's the one who nearly killed us all!"

"Mahon, silence yourself!" Raju said, fear edging into his voice. "You're talking foolishly!"

"No, I'm talking straight for the first time this night," Mahon said. "Men, the police here helped us in keeping the civilians safe, Raju didn't like them trying to sweep away his power!"

Silently, Sean and the other Hibernians watched the pair, then Sean nodded. "Msng., what does the bible say about St. Ignatius?"

"That he was in two places at once," Raju said, smiling gently.

"And St. Francis of Assisi?"

"Preaching God's word to the animals," Raju sighed. "It's all in the Bible."

"No, it's not," Sean said, the look of calm on Raju's face replaced with cold fear. Then, a hand grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him up. Turning, Raju saw that the Baptist had survived.

"Msng. Raju, you're under arrest for inciting a riot, attempted murder, conspiracy, and attempting to overthrow the US government. You have the right remain silent-"

"NO!" Raju shouted, trying to wriggle and fight his way out. "I am a servant of His will! I do His works!"

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"I am above your laws! I follow the laws of God, the laws of man have no bearing to Him!"

"You have the right to speak to an attorney."

"You are a heathen, a filthy protestant!" Raju shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he raged.

"If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

"I need no attorney, I am protected by His will!"

"Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

"Damn you all to hell!" Raju shouted, before Sean clocked him in the face with his rifle butt. Carter and Sean looked at each other, and Sean shrugged.

"Well, what'd you want me to do, he was being damn annoying!"

"In most cases, that'd be assault," Carter said. "But I'd call that calming the suspect." He smiled. "Glad to see you aren't all insane."

"Hey, we're still American," Sean said, sticking out his hand. Carter shook it, and the civilians were herded out, paramedics seeing to the wounded.

* * *

8:03 AM in New York. Across Manhattan, fire engines and police cars swarmed, repeating the same message, "ATTENTION NEW YORK CITIZENS. FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS BEING BROADCAST ON THESE SPEAKERS. KEEP CALM AND REMAIN IN SUNLIGHT. PLEASE BRING ANY INJURED TO THE NEAREST AMBULANCE, POST OFFICE, OR HOSPITAL FOR TREATMENT."

"I just got off the phone with Giuliani," Peter said, as he and the Ghostbusters took a short break on the hood of Ecto-1. "We aren't getting paid, but our contract with the city has been coincidentally been extended, due to the 'undoubted amount of spiritual trauma endured that will inevitably lead to more hauntings'."

"Great! That means I can keep researching on these things! Who knows, maybe we'll be able to cure this thing one day!"

"One step at a time Ray," Winston said, tucking the SMAW away before anyone could confiscate it. "So, what now?"

"The SOI and AOH are working with Shmira and Shomrim, they're helping the authorities police for any leftover targets," Egon said. "The National Guard and Red Cross are setting up relief stations in the larger buildings, and the Coast Guard's trawling the water just in case."

"Hey, guys!" Turning, the four saw Jeanine walking up to them, holding a cooler in her hands. "I heard that it's over, so I figured you all could use some drinks!"

"Jeanine, you never fail to please," Winston said, running over and helping her with the cooler. Setting it down on the hood, they all took a beer and had a drink. "Glad to see you all made it out okay," Jeanine said. "Even you, Dr. Venkman."

"That means a lot, Jeanine," Peter said. "I'm glad to see you made it out too."

"Thanks." The five quietly sipped at their drinks, looking up at the sky, when Jeanine suddenly said, "So about my raise,"

"Oh crap," Venkman said, getting a beer can thrown at his head for his statement. It took Ray and Winston ten minutes to hold Jeanine back before they could convince Egon to go on a date with her as a compromise.

* * *

"You okay, McClane?" Looking up from where he was sitting, McClane saw his captain standing over him. "Christ, you look like hell."

"Thanks for sparing my ego, sir," McClane said, taking a drink of his bottle of water. "I'm just disappointed in myself, is all."

"That you let the Saints get away." McClane nodded. Sighing, the captain sat down himself. "I got a call from the FBI, John-"

"Christ, Captain, don't go filling me with B.S."

"Easy, McClane," the Captain said, motioning the detective down with his hand. "I got a call from a man named Smecker, he's in charge of investigating the Saints, he thinks he knows where they went."

"Oh great, please tell me, I wonder if I'll actually have jurisdiction," McClane said.

"McClane, have you ever heard of Roanapur?"

McClane sighed, and leaned back on the bench. "I thought that was a rumor sir, the one place where all the crime bosses get together to have a few beers and stab each others backs."

"It's real McClane, the Thai government just doesn't like to talk about it much." The Captain shook his head. "They're gonna die, John, you couldn't have stopped them even if you tried."

"What do you mean, sir?" McClane asked, sitting up.

"Roanapur's the hive of scum and villainy," the Captain said, McClane shaking his head. The man always had been a bit too much of a Star Wars fan. "In a city full of mob bosses who play hardball daily, three guys aren't gonna cut it."

"You didn't see them in action, sir," McClane said. "They're like robots, they just go at it."

"You say so, McClane." Grunting, the Captain rose from the bench. "Anyway, you'd better go home, you need the rest. Go on, I'll cover for you."

"No thanks, sir, I wanna see this through." Shrugging, the Captain walked off to see to his other men, as McClane just sat on the bench. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, he felt another one in his pocket. Pulling it out, he had a sudden flash on memory that the packet dug up, of one night, alone, fighting off a group of robbers. Smiling, he looked down, and in a quiet voice said, "Hey Hans, hope you like company, cause you're about to get a lot of it," he said, lighting up. "Yippie-ki-yay, muthafucka."

* * *

As the _Lagoon _sped northwards, Rock looked out over the water, as Revy checked her guns. "Why did you have to do that?"

"It's what that old bitch Yolanda paid us for," Revy said. "Well, what she paid me for. What're you worried about, it's not like Dutch had a problem with it."

"They were good men," Rock said quietly. "They were only trying to do what they thought was right."

"Wrong, Rock." Looking up, Rock saw Revy reloading her weapons. "You really think they're the good guys? You thought they were heroes? Don't make me laugh." Scowling, Revy put her pistols back where they belonged. "Those guys were like us, Rock, dead and gone. Those black coats, the little prayer of theirs, they're no better than those twins. Where do you think they got their money from, Rock, little donations from their church? They killed people like us, Rock, and took what we had. We were only protecting ourselves, nothing more or less."

"I can't exactly argue that they were all good," Rock said, turning back to the water. "But still, it doesn't seem right that you had to do that."

"Hey, they capped one of Hotel Moscow's people, and they capped Ronny's cousin. You think they'd really last in Roanapur? They'd have started a war, Rock. Yolanda just made sure it didn't come to that." With a wave, she went down into the cabin, leaving Rock to look out over the ocean.

"Maybe it is better for you three this way," he thought, as the bodies of the Saints floated miles away in the water, three bulletholes in the backs of their heads where Revy and Dutch had shot them. "You can't kill all evil from the world, no matter how much you want it."

* * *

"You sure about this?" Sean said, as two of his fellow Hibernians set up a speaker system outside the cathedral, as well as hooking a microphone up to one of their vehicle's radios. "I mean, this is a little sudden."

"Please, it's a memorial," one of the men said. "The people here need something to help them grieve and move on, what's better than this song for that?"

"I guess," Sean said, hefting the bagpipes in his hands. They'd gotten them from one of the fire stations on the island, the owner was too busy getting civilians out of a high-rise. "But I'm a little outta practice."

"You'll do fine," the Hibernian said. "C'mon, time for your Broadway debut."

Smiling, Sean started playing that one tune everyone knew, and everyone could respect.

* * *

"Amazing freakin' Grace," Franco said, as he and the rest of 62 Truck gathered around their truck's water cooler, hydrating for the coming day. "Damn, think they'd play something a little happier."

"All the people lost, and you're gonna argue song choice?" Lou said, shaking his head. "Franco, sometimes you're an ass, you know that?"

"I like it," Garrity said, as he and Niels drank up.

"_62, this is Battalion,_" Chief Reilly's voice said over the radio. "_You boys okay? How's Tommy?_"

"He's still sitting on the curb, chief," Lou said, looking over at Tommy, staring sullenly at the burnt street where the ghoul's body had vaporized in the sun. "Want me to try and talk to him?"

"_Just don't set him off, Lou._" Nodding to the others, Lou filled a cup and walked over to Tommy, handing the water to his friend. "It's almost cleaned up, Tom," Lou said, sipping his own water. "Entire city's gonna be clean in an hour."

"Did you guys find the body?" Tommy asked, still staring at the burnt ground, not even moving his cup.

"No, Tom, they didn't," Lou said, turning his face away. "They found his jacket and helmet, but…Tommy, maybe-"

"No bull, Lou, let's face it, he's gone," Tommy said, as the music slowly drifted over. Slowly, an angry smile crept over Tommy's face. "You know, he always was an idiot." He took a drink. "There was this one time in the Bowery, he ran straight into an apartment because this little girl was crying about her cat. Moron just ran in, didn't think about bringing a mask. I followed him Lou, and you know what? What the papers saw was him carrying me and the damn cat out, wearing the mask I'd given him." He shook his head. "You know what?"

"What, Tom?"

"Jimmy was the biggest asshole I ever knew." Laughing, Tommy drank the water, and slowly started to cry, Lou lending his friend his shoulder, and the song came to an end.

* * *

"Yes, your highness, thank you for understanding." Shutting off the communicator, Zed looked J over. "Well, Alana's father is rather upset about his daughter, but he understands that it was a desperate measure. As soon as the Mets start playing again, we promised that he'll get seats right behind home plate."

"Small price, really," J said. "Sides, Mets have been playing bad anyway. So, what now?"

"All refugees accounted for," L said, running a hand through her black hair. "Seven dead, all told. But no one knows anything."

"So do we neuralize the whole planet now?" J asked. Zed shook his head.

"Our jurisdiction is in aliens, ETs, EBEs and UFOs, " Zed said with a small smile. "Vampires and the like are completely out of our control. Besides, the world has to find out about a secret sooner or later. Maybe one day even us."

"Yeah, until then I'd recommend keeping hidden, no coffee shop I know of is even nearly ready for the worms," J said. "So, what do MIBs do for a day off?"

Zed smiled. "You ever been to Disneyworld, son?"

"What, Walt Disney was really an alien, and he let's the MIB use his park to relax, is that it?"

"Not even close," Zed said. "Michael Eisner, however, is from Io, and loves the MIB. Though I am worried."

"What, does Eisner shoot acid?" J said, jokingly.

"No, Ionians have a habit of wanting to be involved in every little movement of the things they own. I'd hate to see Disney go down the crapper."

"You know what, before this conversation goes any further, just give me my damn day off!"

Zed smiled and nodded. "Two days, son, then I want you back at work."

"You got it, chief," J said, walking down to get his car.

"Zed, you did mean Earth days, right?" L asked.

"You're saying he doesn't know we use Merucurian days for time off?"

* * *

**And another story segment down. As per usual, I ask you find people to review my little tale here, tell what's wrong, what's right, and what I can do to improve. Two down, four to go!**


	19. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

Survival. Duty. Business. Imagination. Truth.

"Argh!" May grumbled, throwing down the box of ammo in the armory. "None of these grenades are any good, they're all flash and smoke!"

"Great, we need to get back out there and ask for more help," Rally whispered, knowing Morgan was ranting and swearing about how his backers had lied to him about the ease of the job. "And the last thing we need is Agent Mulder coming after us for the real truth."

"Can't you shoot him? Anne gave you those silver bullets, use'em!"

"I can't," Rally said, feeling the clip of silver bullets in her vest pocket. "Their ballistics are completely different from lead, I have to make sure that I'm right next to him or nothing!"

"Gee, leave it to Anne to leave us that when we're not supposed to get killed," May grumbled. "Do you want me to get them?"

"I'm the only one who can take this thing on with any chance of winning," Rally said. "'You go and get the sergeant and his squad, but keep-"

"_Agent Vincent, this is Sgt. Redford, come in Vincent, over._"

Rally and May nearly jumped out of their skins when Redford's voice went over their earpieces, and slowly they calmed themselves. "This is Agent Vincent, I read you sergeant. Is your squad with you?"

"_Uh, sort of,_" Redford answered. "_Tell us where you are, we'll be there in five._"

"We're in the second subbasement, in one of the Secret Service armories. We'll meet you at the elevator. Vincent out."

After a few minutes of waiting, Redford came out of the elevator, followed by Agents Mulder and Scully, Rally silently cursing her luck for the night. "Where's your squad, Redford?"

"They're back at the National Archives, guarding the football with Agent Todd. There's also been a new development, and it's waiting upstairs."

"Show us," Rally said. With a nod, they gathered up on the elevator and silently rode up. When the doors opened, Rally and May clapped their hands over each other's mouths to keep themselves from screaming. Standing in front of them was a tiger, covered in drying blood and gore, sitting in front of the elevator almost bored.

"So are these the agents?" Hobbes said, raising an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? That blonde one's barely bigger than Calvin."

"Hey, I am taking medicine for that!" May growled, ripping Rally's hand away from her mouth. "You furry freak!"

"Hey, don't lump me in with them!" Hobbes said, pacing forward. "My sexual attractions are strictly same-species!"

"Both of you stop it!" Scully growled. "We need to focus on the job at hand, and we've found a way to stop these things in their tracks." She pulled out her cross, and Rally shook her head. "What is it?"

"Blessed objects," Rally said. "Vampires and many other undead have an aversion to holy or blessed objects. Now I'm starting to feel dumb for not carrying a cross or the like with me on jo-missions like this."

"I didn't think the Secret Service would ever handle missions like this," Mulder said, with mocking surprise. "I'm glad to know that you're trained in more than handling counterfeiters and protecting the president."

"Yeah, that's us," May said, smiling innocently. "But I don't think that cross'll hold those things off for long, and getting too close'll be too dangerous." She kicked at the wall. "If we had some high explosive I could actually do something."

"Well, I've got this," Redford said, taking out Haggard's block of C4. May's eyes went wide, and she jumped on Redford, nearly ripping off the man's uniform. "Oh, you beautiful man!"

"Hey, you're gonna be married soon, lay off!" Rally said, pulling May off Redford. "Sorry, sergeant, she gets really excited around high explosives." For Redford's part, he was busy pulling himself together. Sure, he was happily married, but it'd been some time since he'd had a real roll in the hay like that girl was offering.

"Man, the guy's in uniforms get all the girls," Mulder said dejectedly. "So what now?"

"We make a plan," Rally said. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

* * *

"I don't like this," Haggard said, pacing around the steps of the Archives. "I'm telling ya, Sweets, I don't like this!"

"What part? The monsters eating our fellow man, the fact that the president's dead, the fact that the entire world is under attack, or that you actually _gave up your only piece of high explosives!_"

Haggard shook his head. "Sarge needed it more than us," he said. "What good were we gonna do with anyway? We're just standing around on guard duty. We just gotta hold out until morning, then we're home free."

"Yeah, I feel safer already," Sweetwater said, despite the shaking of his hands on his weapons.

Inside, Agent Todd had come back from raiding the building's vending machines. "Here we go," she said, handing some water bottles out to Marlowe and the kids. "Probably for the best to, we all need a drink, stay hydrated."

"Aw, come on!" Calvin said, staring glumly at the water bottle. "Aren't there any soda machines in this dump?"

"Soda? Calvin, don't you remember in gym class!" Susie said. "Soda's bad to drink during physical activity, you'll dehydrate yourself!" Taking her water, she smiled at Agent Todd and took a sip, Calvin tapping at his water bottle.

"Calvin," Marlowe said, putting his water down. "You said that…flamethrower of yours, you could modify it?"

"Yeah!" Calvin said, happily jumping up and pulling out the water gun. "Here, take a look! I can change from fire to water," he said, pressing on the side of the water gun. Pulling the trigger, Todd grabbed Susie and jumped away, as Marlowe was slammed into the wall by a wall of water. Realizing what he just did, Calvin quickly let go. Coughing, Marlowe hauled himself up, his uniform dripping wet. "Tell you what…" he said, exhausted. "Don't show me the other settings."

"Yeah, sure," Calvin said, keeping his head down, before he smiled. "Wait, I know! I'll show you my shield generator!" With a leap, he jumped to his cardboard box, a series of knobs and buttons drawn in permanent marker on the bottom.

"Hey, Hags, I think I hear something," Sweetwater said, looking out over the Mall. "We got all the ghouls that were on the attack, right?"

"I think so," Haggard said, bringing out a pair of binoculars. "Hell, those things are…oh crap," he said. "Um, you'd better get Marlowe and Todd out here, this is gonna be a problem." Nodding, Sweetwater ran into the Archives, as Haggard stared out on a horde of ghouls that were coming straight across the Sculpture Garden. Losing his balance on the water in the breakroom where the others had holed up, he slid straight into a trashcan, covering himself in old papers and discarded food. Calvin and Susie couldn't help but giggle. "What the hel-heck is going on here! Why's the floor all wet!"

"You okay, Sweetwater," Marlowe said, helping his buddy up. "What were you running for?"

"Outside, there's more of those ghouls coming, Haggard didn't say how many, just that we needed to move!"

"Yeah," Marlowe said, quickly hitting the switch into "pro mode". "Agent Todd, stay with the kids, make sure you can protect them. I'll send Sweetwater down if something goes wrong, okay?"

"Got it," Todd said, as Marlowe and Sweetwater ran back out to the stairs.

"Hey, wait, I have to help them!" Calvin shouted, before Todd grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and planted him in front of her, and started talking in the harshest voice she could manage. "Calvin, I know a lot about how you're thinking. I know you think you can help, and I've seen what you can do. That does not excuse the fact that you are a child experiencing things that you should not be seeing period." Calvin tried to talk, but he was cut off. "I don't want to hear excuses, Calvin, excuses are tools of the incompetent, and right now, we don't need incompetents nearly killing us."

"I-I'm not incompetent!" Calvin argued, but Agent Todd glared him into submission.

"Listen, Calvin, do you know what will happen if…" Then she realized that Calvin was a little boy, and little boy's were nothing if not stubborn about their own abilities. Thinking quickly, she realized Susie was still in the room. "What would happen if you failed, and those things went after Susie?"

Calvin growled. "That's a low blow," he whispered.

"But it's true," Todd said. "Now you'll stay down here, or I'll arrest you. Or worse."

"What's worse than arresting him!" Susie cried.

"I'll tell his mother what he's been doing," Todd said, Calvin shivering at the mere idea of what his mother would do to him if she found out about any of this.

"Crap, this is bad," Marlowe said, Sweetwater and Haggard nodding. Across the Sculpture Garden, at least three dozen ghouls were making their way towards the Archives, some armed, all dangerous. "Haggard, please tell me you have some more explosives?"

"Wish I could, Preston, but I don't," Haggard said, counting the remaining shells he had. "That was my emergency supply, and I decided that the Sarge had more of an emergency than us."

"Yeah, that's real great, Hags, we're up the creek without a paddle now," Sweetwater said, his voice shaking. "Guys, I'm on my last belt, and that's halfway gone."

"Yeah, Preston, I'm low too," Haggard said, his voice measurably calmer. "Bout nine rounds left, then it's down to a quickdraw contest."

"Oh goody," Preston said. Checking his own magazines, he paused. Taking out the mag in his rifle, he cursed. Only half a mag left, total, and then it was a pistol match. "Whatever happens, keeping the football and those kids safe is top priority, no question, right?"

"Right," both men answered.

"And if it comes down to it…" Preston paused. "If it comes down to it, one of us has to destroy the football, we can't let those things take it back to their leader, right?"

"Right."

"Alright," Preston said, switching his selector from "burst" to "semi". "Let's make the Sarge proud." Going down on one knee, Preston started shooting, taking three ghouls in the head. Haggard waited a few more seconds, then opened fire himself, taking away legs and heads with ease. Sweewater waited the longest. In his mind, he was waiting so he could group the bursts effectively enough to cause some serious damage, but his subconscious was screaming in fear. Slowly, the ghouls made their way up the marble stairs, Marlowe and the others backing behind the columns when the ghouls started shooting.

Down in the break room, Susie sat quietly in her chair, staring at the metal suitcase. "So this is what they want, right?" she said, as Calvin grumbled, Agent Todd pacing back and forth, gun drawn.

"Yeah, it's what they want," Todd said. "Why?"

"Can you open it?"

Todd arched her eyes. "No. Why, what are you thinking?"

"These things were just told to get the briefcase," Susie said, bringing it close to her. "But they don't need what's in the briefcase, do they?"

Agent Todd's eyes went wide, and a smile broke over her face. "Calvin, that gun of yours, can it shoot lighting?"

"Yeah," Calvin said, his brain not quite tracking. "So?"

"And can you turn that cardboard box in a…an I don't know, some sort of repair device?"

"A repair-o-matic? Sure!" Calvin said, pulling out a marker. "What are you thinking?"

"I think Susie just blew this thing wide open," Todd said, she and Susie sharing a smile.

Going down into a lower level, Todd pushed Susie back against the nearest wall, and nodded to Calvin. Letting out an evil grin, he pulled the trigger on the gun, a bolt of lightning streaking out of the barrel, practically welding the suitcase shut. After a few seconds, a burst of sparks erupted, the electronics frying themselves.

"Okay, that's enough!" Todd shouted, Calvin taking a few seconds to process the stop order. Giving the case a few seconds to cool, Todd nodded to Calvin, who put his cardboard box over the suitcase. "Remember, only fix the outside, don't make anything on the inside work!" Todd said. Pressing on a few drawn on buttons and turning a drawn knob, Calvin laughed as a flash of light shone from under the box, and a few seconds later he flipped it over to reveal the case was fixed, as clean as when they found it. "Alright, Calvin, fix the box again! You are both gonna stay here and not follow me!" Todd said, grabbing the case and running upstairs before Calvin could start arguing.

"Marlowe, I want you to know that, as squad leader, I blame you for this!" Sweetwater said, dropping his SAW the second the belt was gone, pulling his sidearm from it's holster and firing.

"Noted," Marlowe said, as he was halfway into his second, and last, magazine. The monsters were making their way into the rotunda, firing away. Thankfully, since the attack had started, the staff of the Archives had quickly moved the Constitution and Declaration of Independence, as well as dozens of other important documents down to their secured vaults, which meant the soldiers could let loose without fear of collateral. "Haggard, get downstairs, tell Todd-"

"I'm right here," Todd shouted, running out behind them from the service door. "We have to give them what they want, Marlowe, it's the only way!"

"Are you crazy!" Haggard shouted. "They'll nuke us if they get that thing! Get that back downstairs, now!"

"There's no time to argue!" Todd shouted, tossing the case over their heads, the three soldiers screamed and tried to grab it. The ghouls froze where they were, and quickly swarmed the case, before a massive section of the ghouls parted, letting a single ghoul exit. Marlowe and the others just stared, before circling around Todd. "What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking." Marlowe said quietly.

"Look out!" Todd said, firing her weapon at the horde. Turning, the men saw that the ghouls were coming after them again. Screaming, they ran through the door and down to the break room, where Calvin was waiting. "You ready Calvin?" Agent Todd asked.

"You know it!" Calvin cheered, raising his water pistol. "Susie, hit the button!"

Susie pressed hard on the box, and a sudden bubble of energy erupted out from the box. Marlowe, Haggard and Sweetwater just stared as it came towards them, silently engulfing them, before moving forward, stopping at the doors.

"What the hell was that?" Haggard asked, his voice almost silent.

"Force field," Calvin said with pride. "It'll differentiate between living and dead matter, meaning that we can pass through it back and forth, and they can't." As if to prove Calvin's point, the ghouls that tried to pass through the field were vaporized as they touched it.

"But that's a cardboard box!" Sweewater cried. "There's no way it can do that kinda crap, no way on Earth!"

It was subtle, but Todd noticed that the bubble around them seemed to fluctuate, and a ghoul started to reach a hand through. Thinking fast, she clobbered Sweetwater across the jaw, knocking him out.

"Now why did you do that!" Haggard said, as the bubble reformed, and the ghoul disintegrated.

"It's belief," Todd said, pushing some hair out of her face. "You can't question it, at least not out loud, not where Calvin can hear it. It's like if he thinks he can do it, it'll happen. You just…" she shrugged her shoulders. "You just have to believe it too."

"Hell, I think I'll believe anything after tonight," Haggard said. "But why the hell did you give them the football!"

"She didn't!" Susie said, stepping over. "We destroyed the real case and used the box to repair it! Those things only want the case, whoever's in charge of them wants what's inside."

"Did we just get outthought by a seven year old?" Marlowe said incredulously.

"Well, we're safe now," Calvin said as he walked back from the edge of the force field. "Now what?"

"We wait," Todd said. Sighing, she looked out at the force field, as the ghouls feebly tried to break through.

"Anyone know any good card games?" Haggard asked.

* * *

"Okay, we've got our plan," Rally said, as the group looked down on the lobby outside the House from the second floor. "Hobbes, we're counting on you for this, don't let us down on this."

"Don't worry, I know what's at stake," Hobbes said. "I just need you guys to hold up your end of the deal."

"Not to worry," Redford said, checking the chamber on his weapon. "This sucker's angry, he's unfocused. We can use that against him to strike a killing blow. Knock his butt back to the movies."

"Then let's move-" Rally froze, hearing footsteps marching across the tiled floor, holding a silver briefcase. Going to the edge of the floor, Rally and the others looked over to see a lone ghoul marching across the floor, into the House chambers.

"Oh God," Scully said. "He's got the football now, he can give the launch orders…"

"Calvin…" Hobbes whispered, his eyes going narrow.

"Oh God…Haggard, Sweetwater," Redford said, gripping his M16 tighter.

"Okay, plan's changed, we have to move now!" Rally said, the others following.

"At last," Morgan smiled, placing the case on the Speaker's desk. "After months of waiting, I can finally make it work." Shifting his thumbprint and accessing the memories of those he devoured, he typed in the code and pressed on the scanner, hearing the latches pop. "The pure order begins today," he whispered, ripping open the case.

Saying the inside was charred was an understatement. Displays were broken and shattered, pieces of exposed wiring hanging out of holes and broken LCDs. The metal lining was warped and misshapen. When Morgan moved it, pieces of it fell apart. With a roar, he tossed the case at the ghoul that had brought it, breaking the skull and forcing pieces of brain to go flying. That was when Hobbes leapt into the fray. With a deep, bellowing roar, he charged across the desks, ripping apart the ghouls before they could react. Shrinking away, Morgan fled for the doors outside, crawling under the desks as Hobbes threw the ghouls everywhere. Standing as he got outside the doors, Morgan let out a breath before walking out.

He heard them the second they hit the floor, five metallic objects, round, flat at the ends. Before he could react, they exploded, May carefully instructing the team to count to two after they pulled the pin and let the hammer down. In using his hypersensitivity to search through the darkened halls, Morgan had made himself vulnerable to overstimulation. Screaming and practically clawing at his eyes, he stumbled around, feeling bullets pepper his body. Then, something else landed on the floor in front of him, only it wasn't metal. As his vision slowly returned, he saw what it was, and his eyes went wide.

The blast was large, not a large fireball, but enough to rip Morgan's lower half to pieces. His upper body flew forward, landing behind one of the columns, below Agent Mulder.

"Alright, Mulder, change your mag and finish the job!" Rally shouted, staying where she was in case any ghouls made it out of Hobbes' attack.

"Wait…don't…" Morgan coughed. "You need me…I'm the proof you wanted…I know you Mulder…"

"Mulder, kill that damn thing, now!" Redford shouted, moving up himself, having already changed his magazine to the silver bullets. "It's too risky to leave it alive!"

"I'm the truth you want, Mulder…" Morgan said, as his right arm slowly reformed. "The ridicule…the laughter…it'll all stop with me…"

"Mulder, what're you waiting for, shoot it!" Scully screamed. "Shoot it before it can kill us!"

"You want to prove all your theories…it starts with me…"

"Mulder, before you do anything else, think about this," Rally said. "These things are all over the world, attacking L.A., New York, and Europe." She grinned in the darkness. "Do you really think anyone would laugh at you after such a thing?"

Morgan went silent, and Mulder ejected his magazine, and inserted the one that contained the silver bullet. Pulling the slide, he leveled the weapon at Morgan.

"Wait…Mulder-"

A single gunshot ended the crisis in D.C.

* * *

8:12 AM. The 74th Troop Command, alongside the DCPD, FBI Police, and several other Federal agencies, cleared the streets of the capitol, quickly collecting both survivors and national treasures. The Holocaust museum was lost, but the relics and notes were still safe, and it could be rebuilt again, quietly proclaiming the truth against those who shouted it didn't exist. In front of the Capitol building, Anne's chopper was landing. Rally and the others sat on the steps of the building, Calvin and Susie curled up with Hobbes, after a tear and tackle filled reunion. Redford and his three squadmates sat with Agent Mulder, smoking Cuban cigars, a few weeks fresh from the looks of it. They swapped stories with each other, of the weird and strange things they'd seen over the years of government service. Scully was busy calling her mother on her cell, as Agent Todd slept the day away. Rally and May ran up to meet with Anne as she stepped off the chopper.

"Excellent work as usual, Rally," Anne said, stepping onto the grass. "And I understand you found me something interesting?"

"The boy," Rally said, pointing over at Calvin. "He's…well, we don't quite know what he is, but he's good at it, and a good guy at that. The girl's smart too, for her age. With the right guidance, both of them can be valuable."

"I guess no one else can officially know about them then," Anne said. Walking over to the small group, she shook Mulder's hand. "Agent Mulder. I've heard a lot about your actions on the X-files."

"And I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Warbucks," Mulder said. "Like how you barely age, and how you've been at the top of your game since before you had your first root canal."

"Flattery will get you nothing, Agent Mulder," Anne said, smiling coyly. "So you killed the vampire, did you? I thought that with your prior experiences, you would have been more willing to keep him alive. After all, he's more proof than you could have dreamed of."

"Right now, my biggest question is why an international billionaire arms dealer is so concerned with the personal well-being of a few federal agents and soldiers, when she would probably be more worried about her company's stocks the morning after, unless there was something else going on."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Agent Mulder," Anne said, he smile starting to shrink.

"So what now," Scully said, putting her phone in her pocket. "Do we just go back to the office and write up a report?"

"As long as you both realize that it will be proofread before final publishing," Anne said. Nodding to the pair, she walked over to Redford and knelt down. "Sergeant, how're you feeling?"

"Like hell," Redford said, puffing away the cigar. "I'm just glad we lived through this, now I can retire."

"Yeah, lucky you," Sweetwater said, half his cigar gone. "You get to leave, we're still stuck here."

"You guys just keep talking," Marlowe said, as he lay on his back across from where Anne was kneeling. "I'm too busy enjoying the view."

"And they call me a bad influence," Haggard mumbled. "So what'd you need to talk to us about, ma'am?"

"Well, I decided that for your exemplary service, you all be compensated immediately," Anne said, taking out four checks. "For hazardous situations in the normal line of duty."

Taking the checks, the soldiers' eyes nearly ripped from their sockets, seeing the numbers on the checks. Sweetwater and Haggard started jumping and cheering, as Marlowe sat quietly in shock. For his part, Redford just grinned, cigar sticking up in the air. "So what about the rest of the squad?" he asked jovially.

Anne looked away. "Only two other men survived the night," she said, sadness on the edge of her voice Sweetwater and Haggard stopped cheering, and Marlowe sat up on the stairs. Redford's cigar dipped down, and his face hardened. "They drew enough ghouls to their position that the 74th was able to concentrate on their position and eliminate a sizeable portion of Morgan's forces."

"So…the other guys'll get checks too, right?" Sweetwater said, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. "And the families, they'll be compensated, right? The government…it'll help'em out, right!"

Anne nodded solemnly. "I'll see to it that every man in the squad get's their just due."

Redford nodded in reply. "You'd better, ma'am. Ain't no other unit in the Army holds a grudge like B-Company."

"I'll remember that, Redford," Anne said, getting up, grinning as she heard Marlowe sigh behind her. "_Still got it_," she thought, as she walked over to Calvin. "Hi," she said, sticking out her hand. "So you're Calvin?"

"Yeah," he said, groggily getting up from Hobbes' stomach. "Who're you?"

"My name's Anne," she said, bending down. "Tell me, Calvin, how did you do all that last night? I hear you made force fields and flamethrowers out of things no one would believe."

"I just did," Calvin said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean, it worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, yes it did," Anne said. "And you can use any old cardboard box for this?"

"Heck, if you gave me a new one, I could make it fly!" he said, starting to get excited.

"Maybe later," Anne said, ruffling the boy's hair. Turning to Susie, she shook the girl's hand as well. "And what told you that those ghouls would only go after the case?"

"Well, those ghouls were barely smarter than Calvin," Susie said, rubbing her eyes. "And if he was told to go after something, he'd only look at the outside, he wouldn't bother checking what was inside."

"Hey, I am too smarter than those things!" Calvin snapped.

"I see," Anne whispered. "_Oh yes, they are going to be very valuable as they grow up._" Finally, she looked at Hobbes. "So, what now for you?"

"I stick with Calvin," Hobbes said, not bothering to get up or open his eyes. "Wherever he goes, I go, understand?"

Walking to Hobbes' ear, Anne leaned down and whispered. "What about when he grows up, hm?" Hobbes stirred, turning his head to look at Anne. "I can help him with his abilities, but you're completely independent of that. And he's already got a crush," Anne said, nodding towards Calvin and Susie, who were busy arguing over Calvin's intelligence. "He won't stay innocent forever."

Hobbes looked over and sighed. "I guess not," he whispered. "So what, you'll put me in storage?"

"Course not, you're valuable," Anne said, getting up. "If Calvin finally goes on, you'll be given a choice, new child, or neutralization if you feel you finally want to rest."

Hobbes stared at Anne, then slowly nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a deal," he said. "Hey, do Agent Todd a favor and let her sleep, okay? We've all had a rough night."

"Compensation first," Anne said, waving a final little check around. Putting it in Todd's right pocket, she nodded to Rally and May, who quickly hopped in the chopper. Saying goodbye to the group, Anne strode across the grass, Mulder, Marlowe, Sweetwater and Haggard watching her leave.

"I don't think you put on enough of a show, Anne," May giggled. "So, back home now?" she yawned.

"Damn straight," Anne said, as the chopper took off. "If I know Kolchak, he's writing up a storm that's gonna cause us trouble. And the last thing I need is the world knowing that Warbucks is that deeply embedded in US politics."

"Well, you've never been in bed with anyone else!" May laughed. Rally and the pilots couldn't help themselves, and joined in, before Anne finally dropped the act and laughed along as well.

"So where are we now, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Any closer to finding that truth of yours?"

"Well, at least I have names," he said. "Vincent and Hopkins. Aughta find something on them in the Secret Service database, or should I say, nothing."

"No, you will," said a groggy voice from the stairs. "Vincent and Hopkins were assigned to POTUS' security detail. They were two of the first down when Morgan made the attack." Looking up into the sky, Agent Todd shook her head and smiled. "They weren't the best, but I'll be damned if they didn't do their jobs last night."

Frowning, Mulder walked over to the stairs and sat down, trying to think. Going over, Scully sat down with him and started taking off her vest. "You know, Mulder, the truth's a great thing, it uncovers fact that can save us, make us better, all the stuff we both know."

"So why does it keep running away from me Scully?" Mulder asked, still staring across the Mall to the Washington Monument. "Why is it that every time I try to pin it down in one way or another it runs away?"

"Maybe it's because it's not ready for you, Mulder?" Scully said, giving Mulder a small smile. "After all, after an hour with you, most people are ready to run screaming for the nearest door. Maybe the truth needs time to ready itself."

Mulder cracked a small smile and turned to Scully. "Yeah…Thanks, Scully."

Scully smiled back. "Don't mention it, Mulder. Besides, this was just vampires," she said, looking out over the mall. "Who knows what's still hiding out there for you to find?"

"Now I've been thinking about that, actually, and I believe-" Mulder said, before he was cut off by Scully slapping her hand over his mouth.

"You know, we never did really 'protect' the football," Marlowe said, nearly finished with his first cigar. "Think that'll be a problem?"

"Short-run?" Redford said. "Maybe. Long-run? They've been doing this bit since we implemented the football, Marlowe. They'll come up with some new codes, don't you worry." Lighting up a second cigar, he puffed out into the dawn air. "So, now that I'm pretty much retired, who's up to take over?"

"I say Marlowe," Haggard said, punching the man lightly on the shoulder. "Hey handled himself damn well in the Archives, I say he should take over."

"Agreed," Sweetwater said, finishing his cigar. "You did good out there today, kid, I say you lead the squad now."

"Then it's settled," Redford said. "But as my last official order as squad leader…" He stared at the cigar. "Go and find as many of these damn cigars and the best whiskey you can, I want to smoke my way to the grave!" The trio of soldiers gave a small laugh, and went off into Congress, finding all that and more, oddly enough, in the offices of Congressmen who prided themselves on their family-friendly image.

* * *

**Well, that's the DC section done, and with it the X-Files, Calvin and Hobbes, Battlefield: Bad Company and Gunsmith Cats. So, you folks out there, shoot me a review, and remember, we're almost done with this story here. Three down, two more to go!**


	20. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

Integrity. Service. Excellence. Patriotism. Leadership.

"Doc, what's going on," O'Neill said, as he and Teal'c ran into the infirmary. Dr. Frasier didn't answer immediately, she was too busy staunching the flow of blood from an amputated arm.

"Short version, Colonel, if we don't want to be infected, we need to amputate, and fast," Dr. Frasier said, jumping from one patient to the next. "We nearly lost the infirmary to these things twice before we figured it out, but the men are losing blood faster than we can grab it from storage."

O'Neill nodded, then turned to where Carter was quickly sipping at some coffee. "You okay?"

"Honestly, sir? No," Carter said. "I'd honestly take the goa'uld or replicators over these things any day."

"Can't imagine why," O'Neill said. "Where's Daniel?"

"He's in the restroom," Carter said, pointing. "It was a little too much for him, I think, all the limbs and blood."

"Yeah, well, he's still got a long way to go," O'Neill said. "I just got word that a flight from 51 is on it's way down through the complex, they'll be here soon."

"That's great sir-" Carter said, as O'Neill held up a hand to stop her.

"However, they might not get here fast enough, and we've still got five halls and tunnels filled with those things." He checked the magazines he still had and sighed. "Carter, if it comes down to it, I want to know whether or not I can trust you with the safety of Mr. Hastert."

"Colonel, if you have to ask that by now, then sir, with all due respect, you're thicker than the bulkheads."

O'Neill smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear." Patting Carter on the shoulder, O'Neill walked down the nearest corridor to grab Teal'c, who was grabbing his staff weapon. "Woah, buddy, you're bringing that out now?"

"Indeed I am," Teal'c answered. "The enemy is grouped tightly together in these quarters, and the energy from the staff blast should be sufficient to harm multiple foes with one shot."

"Yeah, that's why we have shotguns, Teal'c," O'Neill said. "There should still be a few left, amazingly enough. Grab a USAS, the SPAS' have too much of a kick for my taste anyway."

"I will take that under advisement, O'Neill."

O'Neill nodded, then turned away. If Teal'c wanted to fight with his staff, so be it. Teal'c wasn't the biggest of O'Neill's worries anyway. No, that title went to Daniel, who currently was waiting outside the infirmary, away from the blood and guts. Going out into the hall, O'Neill saw Daniel with his head down, but not asleep. "You up?"

"I guess," Daniel answered, yawning as he raised his head. "I'm just ready for bed, Jack, I can't take much more of this."

"Wow, all those missions through the gate and this knocks you out?"

"The goa'uld I can learn about, Jack," Daniel said. "I can study them, I can learn about them, maybe even relate to them. But I can't do that with these things." Quickly, Daniel buried his head in his hands. "They're more alien that the goa'uld, Jack, and that scares me."

"It scares me too, pal," O'Neill said. "Don't worry, from what we've heard, these things die as soon as the sun hits'em. All we gotta do is pop'em in the head and that's that."

"But Jack-"

"But nothing, Daniel," O'Neill said, hardening his voice. "There's no cure, Dr. Frasier already found that one out a few hours ago. Now if you feel you're compromised, go down and wait with Hastert and SG-2." At first, Daniel tried to argue, but decided against it, finally getting up and going downstairs.

"Think he'll be okay, sir?" Carter asked, walking up behind O'Neill.

"He's a strong guy, Carter," O'Neill said. "Well, not physically strong of course, I mean, guy's still a bit of a twig, after all, but he's got a good head on his shoulders, he'll make it through. Now come on, we've taken fifteen, we've gotta get up and relieve SG-5."

* * *

Following O'Neill and Carter up to where SG-5 was barricaded, Teal'c froze at a T-junction, and lowered his staff at O'Neill. "Do not move, O'Neill."

"Teal'c, what're you doing?" O'Neill said, not batting an eye.

"There is a presence here, among us," Teal'c said, slowly sweeping his staff across the hall. "I can sense it."

"Where is it, Teal'c," Carter said, raising her weapon. "Don't just leave us hanging."

"He is moving rapidly, but not fast enough to give himself away." Slowly, he walked past Carter and O'Neill to the top of the "T" and swept his staff from right to left. In a flash he spun around and fired, his shot barely grazing O'Neill and Carter, both slapping their singed arms. Sprinting behind them, Teal'c shoved his staff down and to the left, pulling back. A grunt and a thud told him that their intruder was with them. Teal'c tackled the thing, roaring a Jaffa battle cry. His opponent answered by headbutting Teal'c, only to groan when his forehead hit Teal'c's gold.

"Sir, I don't have a shot!" Carter shouted, Teal'c moving in and out of her crosshair.

"Teal'c, whatever that thing is, let go of it, we need the shot!" O'Neill barked. Teal'c just grabbed his opponent by it's neck and slammed it against the nearest wall.

"Reveal youself!" Teal'c shouted. "Dispense with your tricks and show your true form!"

"What…the hell…are you?" a voice said. Slowly, almost like water falling down from a stone, the emptiness in Teal'c's hands vanished, a man in a dark suit filling in the space.

"I am Jaffa," Teal'c said, his grip firm as Agent tried to wiggle out.

"Name, now!" O'Neill barked, he and Carter moving up from behind, weapons trained on Agent's head. "We will fire!"

"You don't understand what you're up against," Agent growled. Faster than Carter or O'Neill could see, he swipped his hands at Teal'c stomach, tearing away his uniform. Teal'c had jumped away, pushing Carter and O'Neill back as well. "Now tell you commander to surrender…now…what the hell?" Agent suddenly stopped in midsentence, staring at Teal'c stomach. Or rather, what was supposed to be his stomach. Instead, there was a roughly X-shaped incision, still open, but not bleeding. "I…I didn't get you?" To answer, a hissing sounded from Teal'c's stomach, and Agent screamed in terror. Out of it burst a creature like a worm, but with three fins, all on it's head. It's mouth wasn't a mouth, but more like a mandible, the creature covered in some viscous substance. It was unlike anything Agent had ever encountered before.

It terrified him.

"What's wrong?" O'Neill said, stepping around Teal'c. "Figured you'd be a master of horror, pal, what gives?"

"Get it…get it away…" Agent whispered, his voice slowly building. "Get it away, get it away, get it away !"

"I think he wants you to come closer, Teal'c, get to know Junior a little better," O'Neill said. Teal'c strode forward, his symbiote still hissing at the strange intruder. "Say hi to Junior, pal."

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Agent cried, Carter staring in confusion. Agent tried to backpedal, to climb up the metal walls, even through the mountain if he needed to. "GET THAT AWAY!"

"Wow, talk about the pot and the kettle," O'Neill said. "Teal'c I don't think our friend here has ever enjoyed Jaffa hospitality, would you like to show him?"

"Indeed I would, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Proceed to SG-5 and support them, I will finish the infiltrator." With a nod, O'Neill and Carter ran, leaving Teal'c with Agent. "_Kree_," Teal'c whispered, before grabbing Agent by the throat with both hands and squeezing. "You dared to attack your own planet, your own species!" he growled. "What could drive you to such madness!"

"Things like you!" Agent shouted. "There's monsters out there, man, I was just trying to defend against them!"

"You would kill your own, just so you could be stronger?" Teal'c glared, Junior letting out a hiss of his own. "You are no better than the goa'uld." Without another word, Teal'c crushed Agent's neck into powder, severing the connection between head and body. Slowly, the enemy's body turned to dust, flowing out of Teal'c's hands. For his part, Junior was finished, and returned to his pouch.

* * *

"Sir, did you notice how he reacted to Teal'c's symbiote?" Carter said, as the two ran to join up with Harper and his Marines. "It was like he'd never seen anything like that before."

"Maybe the school curriculum for monsters is slipping, all I care about is staying alive!" Running up a short flight of stairs, the pair ran into the sound of gunfire ahead of them. "How're you holding up, Harper!" O'Neill said, crouching behind the cover SG-5 had set up.

"Barber was dragged away by those things," Maj. Harper said sticking his weapon above cover and firing blind. "Christ, it was ugly, sir."

"It's okay," O'Neill said. "We got the thing that did this, now it's just housecleaning. Think you jarheads are capable of that?"

"OORAH!" the Marines of SG-5 barked. Rising up, the fired into the monsters, dust slowly piling up in the corridor.

"Sir, Gen. Hammond says the flight from 51 is on our level now, they'll be here in ten," Carter said taking her hand from her radio.

"Then tell Hammond that they've gotta cut that in half," O'Neill said, peeking above the cover. "Cause that hall looks pretty damn full."

"Not to worry, sir, we've got enough ammo to last us til Christmas-Maj. Carter, behind you!"

Spinning at Harper's warning, Carter caught herself face to face with Agent again. She tried to bring up her weapon, but Agent batted it away, shoving Carter in front of his body as a shield. "You know, that wasn't very nice what you did to me back there."

"Yeah, well, what goes around," O'Neill said, as he and Harper kept their weapons trained on Agent. "Carter, you okay?"

"Aside from the psycho holding me hostage, I'm fine sir," Carter said, a strange gleam in her eye. "If you wouldn't mind shooting him now, I'd appreciate it!"

"What?" Agent said, confused.

"You sure?" O'Neill said, as he and Harper slowly forced Agent back. "I mean, it'll hurt."

"Can't be as bad as a zzat," Carter replied. "You've never experienced a zzat blast, have you?" she said, turning her head. "Oh, it hurts."

"Carter, what're you doing," O'Neill said, genuinely confused.

"Or that time the capsule from P5C-353 speared Col. O'Neill?" Harper said, nodding towards his superior, a smile on his face. "Yeah, you really picked a house of hurt to invade, pal."

"What…stop that," Agent said, still backing away. "You're trying to psyche me out! Well, let's see who laughs when I turn this little girl into a servant of mine!"

"Oh, great, _another_ power-mad monster with insecurities," Carter said, almost bored. "Sir, just shoot us both, save us the time."

"She's right, colonel," Harper said. "Better to get it over with now than drag it out."

"Will you shut up!" Agent shouted, before O'Neill could ask what the hell was happening. "Good thing you're military, that way I know you're not a virgin," Agent said quietly into Carter's ear.

"Oh, you did not just go there!" Carter shouted. "You know what, sir, just give me the weapon, I'll do this myself!"

"Carter, would you please tell me what the hell you're doing!" O'Neill barked, as Agent rounded a corner. "Just shut up so I can figure this out!"

"Up, he's losing his audience, bad sign," Harper said. "We got a gong or anything, we need to get this guy off the stage."

"Stop it!" Agent said, extending his fingernails slightly into Carter's neck, drawing a thin trickle of blood.

"Agh! Watch it, you jerk, I kinda like my neck the way it is!" Carter shouted.

"Carter, stop talking to it!" O'Neill said, trying not to set the killer off again. "That's an order!"

Carter huffed and rolled her eyes, O'Neill completely at a loss. "Okay, let me just ask one question then," he said. "Was that a twin or something downstairs, or was that a robot?"

"Too simple," Agent said, backing into a pair of elevator doors. "I was Him, and He was Me. We were both a single being in separate bodies."

"Wow, that's weird," Harper said, O'Neill lightly kicking him with his boot.

"Okay, so you're…disconnected conjoined twins, I get that," O'Neill said. "What I want to know is why you're doing this!"

"Like I told your…your _freak_ before he crushed my windpipe," Agent said, kicking on the buttons with his shoe. "There's an entire world of monsters out there, and only other monsters can fight them!"

"You mean you did this to yourself?" O'Neill said. Agent nodded. "Man, you really are nuts."

"That's what they all say-"

"Oh, jeez, just, just stop while you're behind on the villain checklist, would ya?" O'Neill said. "What, next you're gonna describe how you're gonna take over the world step by step?"

"Of course not," Agent growled, hearing the elevator speed down. "I'm just here to protect us. Hell, I made sure to go up against people who were trained, not civilians like the others. If you'd learned to fight me, you could fight him!"

"Fight who!" Carter barked, before feeling the nails dig deeper.

"Who do you think, bitch!" Agent growled. "The Major, the Nazis, those bastards!"

"Nazis?" Harper whispered.

"Well, whoever did this, you're not getting out, all the elevators have been shut off!" O'Neill shouted. Then, as he finished, the doors started to slide open, and Agent grinned evilly.

"Except for this one," he sneered.

"Yeah, this one's bringing down the 51 flight." Spinning at the new voice, Agent found himself staring down a .50 caliber revolver. "Any last words?" Cepil asked, cocking the hammer. Agent just stammered and tried to compute what had happened this night, but only managed to get out, "What-" before Cepil blew his brains out.

"Ah, ew!" O'Neill groaned. "Thanks for ruining my uniform, Cepil!"

"Sorry, sir, but I had to act fast. You okay, Maj. Carter?"

"I'm fine, Cepil," Carter said, rubbing at her neck. "I'm just glad you guys decided to come out and play for once."

"Don't thank us," Sutter said, taking out a first aid kit. "Since Hastert was, technically, unable to fulfill his duties, Thurmond ordered us out."

"No kidding," O'Neill said. "Quaritch actually letting you guys loose. Must've been one hell of an order."

"You should see L.A.," Cepil said. Looking over O'Neill's shoulder, he waved. "Hey, Teal'c, what's new!"

"I have successfully eliminated the intruder O'Neill, he will be of no further trouble." Then, Teal'c looked down, and saw Agent's second body. "Was I not made aware of something of importance, O'Neill?"

"I'll explain at the briefing," O'Neill said, as the group of airmen trudged back to SG-5 over the mounds of dust on the floors.

* * *

8:24 AM, CMT. Forces from Ft. Carson quickly moved in to help secure the base, as all SG teams were given rest until Gen. Hammond could ascertain for certain the base's losses and exactly what had happened. Until then, O'Neill was busy gawking over the weapons Cepil and his team had brought, particularly the Voss.

"Amazing," O'Neill whispered, hefting the Voss in his hands. "And this thing holds thirty five, you're telling me?"

"And three shells," Cepil said, taking a drink of water. "So where's Dr. Jackson? He didn't get taken out, did he?"

"Nah, Jackson's fine…I think," O'Neill said, sitting down. "Truth be told, Cepil, I don't think he quite understood some of the things we had to do last night."

"You mean the infected, sir?" Cepil asked. O'Neill nodded. "Didn't he see it for himself?"

"He did, that's why I'm worried," O'Neill said, leaning back in his chair. "He still misses his wife, Cepil. He's still clinging to the idea that she can be brought back, you know?"

"And that could've rubbed off onto these things?" Cepil asked.

"Hell, I don't know," O'Neill grunted, handing the Voss back to Cepil. "I'm gonna go find him, make sure he's really okay," he said, getting up from his seat. "I better not see one fingerprint on my chair, Cepil, or it's Minot for you!"

"Never dream of it, sir," Cepil answered, waiting until O'Neill was out of sight before running for the chair.

* * *

Heading through the corridors, O'Neill found Daniel in his room, staring idly at his computer's screensaver, a series of moving hieroglyphics. "Knock knock," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Jack, hi," Daniel said, turning in his chair, surprised. "I'm just a little…surprised."

Nodding, O'Neill walked in, silent as he thought of the right thing to say. "So…How're you feeling?"

"I'm…I'm fine, Jack, just…taking it all in," Daniel sighed, twirling a pen in his hands. "Just…you know, breathing, and pausing, and remembering that they were…already dead." He stared hard at Jack saying that. "They were dead. They were dead and there was no way to save them."

"Right," Jack said.

"But if someone has a heartbeat, and a pulse, and higher brain functions, they're alive."

"Correct-a-mundo," Jack said.

"So…unless their hearts stops, a person isn't really dead."

"That's right, Daniel," Jack said quietly. The two just stared at each other in silence, O'Neill watching as Daniel reasoned with himself that what had happened was not the wrong thing to do. "I'm gonna go check on the others, okay? You just stay here."

"Yeah, Jack, I'll be here when you get back." Listening as Jack's footsteps went down the hall, Daniel shut the door, and slowly, tears came to his eyes. He didn't weep out loud, though. It was silent, contained, and would be unknown.

* * *

"So, Mr. President," O'Neill said, walking into Hastert's room. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine, colonel…much better than before," Hastert said, taking a drink of water. "I have to say, for a while there I thought we were all dead."

"Well, we do what we can," O'Neill said, waving SG-2 out of the room. Taking a seat, O'Neill let his head fall back and let out a long sigh. "Oh, I can't _wait_ to go fishing."

"Where to?" Hastert asked.

"Minnesota," O'Neill answered, using small talk to keep the man's mind away from what happened until it could cope. "There is a lake where the bass get to _this big_," he said, holding his arms out about a foot and a half across.

"Sounds like quite a trip, wish I could go," Hastert said wistfully. "Sadly, I don't think I'll be doing much vacationing after this."

"Well, I can think of worse jobs, sir, several on this very base." With a grunt, O'Neill sat up and smiled. "Well, sir, anything you need?"

"Yes, just one thing," Hastert said. "As the president, I would like to see the reason Cheyenne Mountain has so much high security."

"Um…no offense, sir, but I don't think you're _officially_ president yet, there's the whole swearing in thing, and the state of the union-"

"Colonel, I don't think any of that matters by this point," Hastert said. "The attack on the base has ended, and I am now fully capable of leading the nation. Now please," he said, motioning to the door.

"You got it, sir," O'Neill said, heading towards the Gate control room.

* * *

"Yes, Mr. Secretary, all pertinent gear is secured," Gen. Hammond said, on the phone with the SecAF. "Yes, sir, Mr. Hastert is alive." Hearing a new set of footsteps walking in, Hammond nearly dropped the phone. "Sir, I'm afraid I'll have to call you back." Hanging up the phone, Hammond brushed off his uniform and walked over. "Sir, how're you feeling?"

"Fine, general, just a little tired," Hastert said. "General, what's behind that metal shield in front of the window?"

"Storage, sir-"

"General, please, I've had enough of lies tonight, just tell me what's behind the blast doors."

Hammond took a minute to collect himself. "Colonel?"

"He asked, general, and I told him what I could," O'Neill said with a shrug. "Personally, I say show'im, he'll know about it soon enough anyway."

It took Hammond all of a minute to decide. "Sergeant, lower the blast shield."

"Yes, sir," Harriman answered. Typing in the appropriate commands, the blast shield lowered, and the reason for all the secrecy slowly came into view.

"A…a ring?" Hastert said, staring at the device. "What is that?"

"Stargate, sir," O'Neill said. "Wormhole to other worlds and solar systems, yours for only $250 billion in energy, supplies and manpower."

"Sergeant, dial in Othala." Nodding at the generals orders, Hastert watched as the massive stone (or was it metal?) disc inside the outer ring spun around, devices on the outer ring lighting as a central one at the top of the disc opened and shut.

"Chevron seven…locked!" Harriman said, before the massive blast of energy shot out from the Stargate.

"Incredible…" Hastert whispered. "What…what does it do?"

"We'll show you, sir," O'Neill said. "With your permission, general?"

"You have a go, colonel."

"Yes! C'mon, sir, I'd like you to meet Thor," O'Neill said, leading Hastert out of the control room.

"Thor? You mean the Norse god?"

"Yeah, he's not as impressive looking as we made him out to be, but you'll love'im." O'Neill explained, gathering troops to escort the now current President out into the Stargate.

* * *

"I am slightly confused, Maj. Carter," Teal'c said, taking a drink of water in the mess. "Why was it that you acted as though you were in no great danger when you were taken hostage?"

"Well, he was afraid," Carter said. "He didn't know about your symbiote, but we're all used to it by now. I just decided to use that against him."

"You used his fear and confusion against him," Teal'c said.

"Exactly," Carter said, taking her own drink. "See, he was already a little disturbed by Junior, so it made sense to confuse him some more, act like he wasn't the worst thing we'd ever come across."

"But he was not," Teal'c said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but he didn't know that," Carter said with a smile.

Teal'c looked away from Carter, and a smile slowly creeped onto his face.

"Indeed."

* * *

"Sen. Thurmond, the latest word just came in from Cheyenne Mountain, they've made it through, Mr. Hastert is secured," Quaritch said, hanging up his phone. "You're free from the responsibilities of the President."

"Thank God," Thurmond said, leaning back in his chair. "You know, Quaritch, I was quite worried about tonight, but I'm damn proud of our people for making it through.

"We all are, sir," Quaritch said. "So what will you do now? You've been the president, what's left, retirement?"

"Not likely," Thurmond chuckled. "Colonel, I've spent my entire life serving the American people. It would do me no good to stop now just because I've held the highest office in the land."

"I understand, sir," Quaritch said, walking to the nearest window.

"You hate it sometimes, don't you?" Turning, Quaritch saw Thurmond studying him. "You signed on, got 51, and you do your duty, but sometimes you just want a little pat on the back from them, a thank you. Or am I reading you wrong?"

Quaritch stared at Thurmond, and shook his head. "Saw right through me, sir," he said, walking back to his chair. "I'll admit, it would be nice to have some acknowledgement once in a while, not just to act as a backdrop for every conspiracy know to man."

"Don't be so quick to beg for the limelight, colonel," Thurmond said, taking a drink of coffee. "You've actually got it made here. No press hovering over your every word, no angry constituents barking at you to go one way or the other. Take it from me, Quaritch, you're better off without the fanfare," Thurmond said quietly. "It brings expectations with it."

"Yes, sir," Quaritch said. "Now, I'm sorry, sir, but I have to ask you to leave now. The crisis is over, and only the president of the Air Force CoS are allowed to permit passage into 51. You have to leave now."

"Figures," Thurmond said. "Well, Quaritch, remember what I said," he said, getting up from his chair and walking over to Quaritch, hand out. "And good luck."

"You too, sir," Quaritch said. Minutes later, Thurmond and his staff were back on their jet, back to D.C. Watching it leave, Quaritch went back to his office and sat down in his chair, deciding to rest his eyes for a few minutes.

When he finally woke up, it was the next morning.

* * *

**Well, that's 18. Three down, two to go. We're on the home stretch folks, so let's see some reviews!**


	21. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

Memory. Hate. Love. Family. Chimichangas.

"So there it is," Leon said, as the chopper flew towards the former site of the Nakatomi building. "That's where D's father's holed up." Chris and Honlon were already circling the upper floors, the blown out helipad their point of entry, as a ring of LAPD and walkers closed on the building. "You know he's probably waiting for us, right?"

"We have gas masks ready for everyone," Chuck said, holding one out for Leon. "From what you've told us, we're going to need them to protect against the incense he uses to create his hallucinations."

"So he did deal drugs?" Riggs said, looking at Orcot with disbelief. "I always thought this guy had his head up his ass with that." Then Riggs saw the look Leon was giving him, and shrugged. "What?"

"He did, but completely legal," Schroder said. "These materials he used were completely street legal, but combined in a powder that created audio-visual hallucinations that altered perception. Since D was such a proponent of animal rights, anyone with him would see animals as equals, as people, with the proper goading."

"That still doesn't explain what my brother saw," Leon said. "How'd he go from seeing a little Chinese girl to a three-headed dragon?"

"We'll find out eventually," Lucy said. "Right now, let's just focus no taking these bastards in."

"Detective, I'd recommend having the dragon let your brother off on the ground and having an officer escort him back to the stadium," Chuck said. "If the dragon turns on us, it would be disastrous."

"Yeah, you got it," Leon said, as the choppers came down to the hole. Patty went down first, after Val and the others forced her to promise she wouldn't push them out. Linus was the last out, and the chopper peeled off, Leon signaling to Honlon and Chris. The dragon glided down, and Chris jumped off, patting Junrei on her head. "Yeah Leon?"

"Chris, I want you to listen carefully," Leon said, drawing Chris away from the dragon. "I want you to have the dragon take you down to the ground and ask one of the police to take you back to the stadium, and you have to order, _order_, Honlon to stick around the building, okay?"

"Uh, sure, Leon…" Chris said, suddenly jumping up and wrapping his arms around his brother's waist. "Please come back," he whispered.

Leon smiled softly and ruffled his little brother's hair. "Don't worry, Chris. I won't leave you ever again." Letting Chris down, the child ran back to the dragon and told it what to do. Two of the heads nodded and flew off, dropping the boy off with Powell, who quickly ordered one of the nearby officers to take the boy to safety.

"Masks on," Chuck said, the group quickly donning the gas masks. Finding the door to the service stairs, they moved down single-file, scanning the stairs ahead for any enemies. As they did, a thin veil of smoke formed around their feet.

"You sure this stuff can only mess you up if you breathe it?" Grady said, seeing the smoke rise as they went further down.

"No," Leon said, following Chuck. "But it's better than just going down like idiots."

An animal's shriek brought them to a halt, but Burt and the others brought their weapons up, scanning the stairs. "Graboids," Burt whispered. "They're got graboids!"

"Another floor down," Chuck said, moving. Opening the door to the 37th floor, they froze, Burt and the others frozen in shock. On the thick concrete floor, five graboids lay still, shrieking and wriggling like fat sausages.

"They're about to hatch," Earl said. "We've gotta kill'em, we can't let those shriekers loose!"

"You read my mind, Earl," Burt said, loading the Grizzly, only for Chuck to put his hand on the barrel. "What!"

"We should leave one of them alive for study," Chuck said. "There have been rumors of similar creatures for centuries in Mongolia, if we can study a live graboid, we can know how to combat them."

"Are you crazy!" Val snapped, ripping Chuck's hand from the Grizzly. "You know what'll happen if the shriekers get loose! Unless you've got a fire extinguisher, we're not gonna get outta here alive!"

"They're practically extinct, having one to study-"

Burt didn't wait to hear Chuck's counter-argument. He went to one knee, shouldered the Grizzly so he wouldn't be floored by the recoil, and fired.

The blast was amazing, the others forced to cover their ears from the sound. If they had been able to watch in slow motion, the round entered the first graboid with a rather anticlimactic hole, the same size as the .50 BMG round. Inside the graboid, the cavity left by the round compressed the organs against each other, the infant shriekers crushed. The exit wound was a good foot and a half wide, as it slammed into the second graboid. The round slammed head on into the graboid's beak, small fissures running out from the impact point. It ran straight down the monster, through the shriekers, and out the tail end, the liquefied organs following. The round finally stopped when it slammed three inches into a concrete support beam. Val, Earl and Grady fired on the other three, shotgun pellets and 5.56 ripping through the leathery hides of the graboids, the shriekers inside torn apart as well.

"What the hell are you thinking!" Chuck shouted, grabbing Earl and turning him around. "We could have used those!"

"Those things should be extinct!" Earl shouted, fighting Chuck off. "What happens when they eat someone else, should we try and capture that one too!"

"He's right," Burt said, walking up behind Chuck. "I don't care how many of these things are left, there's no place in any food chain for them."

"Hey, there's time to argue animal rights later, let's just get these bastards!" Murtaugh said, stepping between the agents and the handymen. Silently, Chuck stormed down the stairs, the team following him. As they descended, the incense thickened, forcing the Peanuts to switch on the weapons attached to their flashlights.

"Hey, Rog, you hear that?" Riggs said, freezing in place. "Sounds familiar, don't it?"

"Shit, you're right," Murtaugh said, listening. "It's 'Nam."

"Nam?" Schroder said, pausing. Turning his head around, he nodded. "It does sound like there's a tropical rainforest nearby, 33rd floor."

"_Entry team, this is Powell_," the radio suddenly crackled, making them all jump. "_Barricades are in position, we're hitting the spotlights now._" Even over the radio, a hint of fear seeped through.

"Powell, you okay?" Murtaugh asked.

"_No…No, I'm scared to death,_" Powell said. "_I don't think any of us can take much more tonight._"

"Powell, you feelin' okay?" Riggs asked. "You're the same guy who blasted apart a…what was it, a regenerator? Yeah, you blasted one of those apart during the Nakatomi incident!"

"_At least they were only in it for the money, Riggs,_" Powell said. "_If we'd just let'em escape, we probably wouldn't hear from them again. But these guys…_" Powell shuddered. "_They want to kill me, my family, just for existing! That scares me, Riggs. Scares me a helluva lot._"

"Don't worry, Powell, once we take these bastards down, it'll be the end of it," Leon said. Finally, they stopped on the 33rd floor, the former site of the executive longue for the Nakatomi corporation, the same area where, on Christmas 1988, a dozen men seized the building and nearly killed thirty civilians. The LAPD got a collective shiver over the fact that another madman had taken the building as his own. Surrounding the door, Riggs looked down to see that plumes of incense smoke were billowing from the jam. Nodding to the others, he waited, then threw open the door, Chuck and his team moving inside, the detectives and handymen following.

The interior of the floor was a small jungle, palms and ferns growing high towards the ceiling, as smaller plants covered the concrete.

"Shit," Murtaugh said, looking around. "You were right Riggs, it is 'Nam." Turning, he found his partner had vanished. "Riggs? Where'd he go!"

"He was right behind us," Grady said, the last one through the door. As he spoke, the door slammed shut, vines creeping over it. Panicked, Grady and Val ran to the door, trying to pry it open, only for the vines to nearly cover them as well. Leaping away, they went to shoot at the door, only for Burt to grab them by the shoulders. "Don't!" he whispered. "You'll give away our position too soon! For all they know, we're well on our way inside!"

"He's right," Chuck said. "Spread out into a line, we'll move forward and take him in one go."

Creeping through the recreated rainforest, the team froze when they saw D, standing silently at a window, staring down on the barricades as a half dozen search lights crisscrossed the building's façade. Leon didn't think, he just roared, running at D and tackling him, D shocked, Q-chan flittering around, squeaking in futile protest at his master's treatment.

"What were you thinking!" Leon shouted, clocking D across the face. "You take me in, take in those people, just so you can save their Goddamn pets!" Another cross, D's nose running with blood. "Were you gonna kill all the people! All of us! What about you, D! Aren't you a human too! What about Chris!" Punch after punch, D's face bruised and bled, D putting up no protest.

"Officer Orcot, I ask that you please stop beating my son," said an older and more annoyed voice from ahead. "Or I will be forced to charge you with police brutality."

Looking behind him, Orcot saw a dais a few feet away, the others standing ready to shoot the man standing on it. He was slim, despite the billowing Asiatic clothing he wore. His hair was short, jet black, his eyes mismatched, like D's.

"Detective…" D gasped. "I'd like…to introduce…my father."

* * *

"Careful with him," TSgt. Kalo said, as the LA Airbase security forces guided Deadpool towards a waiting base chopper, which would take him to the supermax for holding. "He's got some kinda power, he's able to regenerate from any wound."

"Bull," one of the airmen said, keeping his weapon ready.

"No, I prefer chicken, actually," Deadpool said, before the airman behind him shoved his rifle into the small of Deadpool's back. Grumbling, Pool walked forward, hands cuffed in front, legs chained. Slowly, the airmen marched him up the steps of the plane. Finally in with him, the sergeant closed the door to the chopper. "Alright, pilot, take us up!"

"Oh, I think you should all know one small thing," Deadpool said, before shoving one of the airmen into the chopper door. He kicked the sergeant in the face, grabbing for his pockets. Taking out the keys, he headbutted the other airman, and quickly undid the cuffs, punching out the pilot and copilot. Before he could open the door, he was shot in the back of the head. "Oh, come on now! Was that really necessary, Mr. Author?" Turning, he grabbed the terrified Kalo by the lapels and glared. "Just for that, I'm taking you with me."

"Hotel India 1-4, we are seeing you haven't lifted off yet, is there a problem?" the tower operator said, looking down at the chopper. To answer his question, the doors opened, and the two pilots and three airmen that were on the chopper were tossed out in a pile. "Crap! Someone get security forces out there, he just overpowered the escort team!"

Running out to the tarmac, the S.F. teams were too late to prevent take-off, the downdraft from the chopper keeping them from getting a decent shot off. Winking at them, Deadpool jerked the stick hard right, swerving in and out of the L.A. skyline and power lines, out of the base's sight.

"_Wow, that was fast,_" Italic said. "_So do we take care of the rest now, or what?_"

"No, we have to wait for the scene to climax at Nakatomi," Deadpool said, as Kalo struggled against his restraints. "Don't worry, in this story, I can't really kill government."

"Yeah, that makes me feel _real_ better!" Kalo barked. And who the hell were you talking too!"

"I didn't say I couldn't knock you out," Deadpool said, squeezing on the NCO's shoulder. "Now, let's find that autopilot."

* * *

"Your…father?" Leon said, staring at the man. "But…he looks exactly like you!"

"Yes, a special trait of our line," D's father said, plucking a strand of hair from his head. Blowing it, it broke apart into a powder. As some of the particles passed by Leon, he knew he was going nuts, because each on appeared to have D's face on them. "Isn't that right, _father?_"

Silently, Leon and the others watched as Q-chan squeeked, then morphed into an even older version of D. "You still will go on with your plans, will you?"

"Is this plan why you worked with Millenium!" Chuck shouted. Turning, D's father smiled coyly.

"These vampires do not attack animals," he said calmly. "And they too will be destroyed after I unleash my virus. I tire of interrogations, agent. I suggest you play with my allies." At those words, a savage roar sounded from behind the group, a large tiger leaping out and swiping at Murtaugh. Even with his years of training and experience coming back, the swipe knocked his mask away, and he was quickly overtaken by the fumes, seeing not a tiger, but a Viet Cong melt into the forest.

"Detective, are you alright!" Linus shouted, before a red arm grabbed his mask away. A long trunk batted Patty and Marcy's masks away. Stumbling about, the jungle to them seemed to grow, engulfing yard upon yard of land that couldn't possibly exist.

"I am sorry, detective," D said. Before Leon could react, D tore his mask away, leaping up from underneath Leon and disappearing into the incense.

Slowly, one by one, the team lost their masks, seeing only jungle. The concrete was gone, replaced by small streams and trees taller than the roof. The sounds of a jungle at night attacked their ears, their eyes unable to see in the darkness.

"Now you can see," a distant voice said to the team, split up among the trees. In the distance, a red glow burned, and Murtaugh screamed out, "Napalm! The forest is burning down!"

"That burn killed my family," the voice said. Spinning towards it, Murtaugh fired at what he thought was it's origin, only for mocking laughter to greet him. "You Americans and your guns. You really think they can solve all your problems?"

"They sure as hell do a good job of it!" Burt shouted, shouldering his M16, scanning the brush. "You can't hide forever!"

"We can try," a gravelly voice said to his left, Burt spinning and firing at it, only to hear more laughter, from at least a dozen voices. Grady was so focused on the voices, he didn't see a root above the ground, sending him sprawling, his gun flying from his reach. Scrambling, he tried grab it back, only for a smooth, cold sensation to start winding around his legs. Looking back, he saw a man, dressed in a black Viet Cong's outfit, a jet black coolie hat on his head, wrapping his arms and body around Grady.

"You jussssst got sssssssssuckered," the man said, his tongue shooting out. Grady tried to force a scream from his throat, but just felt a weak gurgling.

Patty and Marcy kept together, Marcy keeping her eyes trained to the rear. "Sir, do you think we'll be alright without the masks?" she asked.

"You know what? Forget it, I'm done correcting you," Patty said, poking at a nearby bush with her weapon. "We should be fine, just shoot at anything that's Viet Cong."

"But sir, how can we tell if they're an animal easily wounded by ballistic weapons?" Marcy thought she heard an answer, but a rustle of leaves cut it off. Looking to where Patty was, Marcy froze. Her Patty had disappeared. "Sir! Sir, where are you!"

"Right here," the gravelly voice said, followed by thundering footsteps. Out of the bushes, a large Viet Cong, seven feet tall, stepped out, Patty being squeezed to death by his large hands. "Now drop your weapon, and I'll finish her quickly."

Murtaugh was still trying to tell himself it wasn't real when a large arm batted him five feet back. Trying to clear the stars from his eyes, he saw a man with slit eyes walked out of the brush. He tried to calm himself with the fact the man wasn't armed, until he saw the Viet Cong's fingernails grow out to a half a foot. "What are you," Murtaugh whispered, feeling around for his gun.

"An enemy of you Americans," the Viet Cong growled. Sneering, it stepped over to Murtaugh's weapon and kicked it away. "And you," he sniffed the air and smiled, baring incredibly sharp teeth to Murtaugh. "You smell like a warrior of this country. Your death will be most sweet."

"Great, now we're separated," Val grumbled. "Why don't we just have Scooby and Shaggy come in and tell us that we need to find Velma!"

"I'd say that's the gas talking, but you've always been that dumb," Earl said, poking a nearby bush with his weapon's barrel. "I say we make back for the windows, try to shoot that queer and finish this fast."

"Yeah, he's sure not a human being," Val said. "Keeping graboids like that? Not right at all."

"I know, and HOLY SHIT!" Earl shouted, as a huge muscled arm swung at them from the bushes. Nearby, someone started to shoot, but it was impossible to tell who. Backing up, Earl and Val saw a massive man rise out of the bushes, his coolie had a dark red. "Who the hell are you!"

"Your warriors called my kind 'rock men'. An insult to be called human," the Viet Cong said, spitting. "You are both as guilty as they."

"We'll see 'bout that!" Val shouted, raising his SPAS and firing away. In the time it took Val to raise his weapon, the man jumped forward, tackling Earl and knocking the man unconscious. Screaming, Val felt something slam into his gut, knocking the wind from his system. Looking up, he saw another red hated guerilla standing over him, smiling as he rose a huge rock to slam onto Val's head. Coughing, Val gasped, "Even after that…I'll still be better looking than you…"

With a roar, the Viet Cong readied to slam the rock down, as a series of rounds slammed into his back. The Viet Cong collapsed, his partner running up to attack the intruder, only for Riggs to jump down from an overhanging tree and break the man's neck. Still in his mask, Riggs walked over and helped the two up. "You guys okay? Those apes were about to mess you guys up!"

"Apes?" Val coughed. "What apes?"

"Those ones, you knucklehead," Riggs said, pointing to the bodies. Val blinked, seeing two misshapen apes now lying where the Viet Cong had fallen.

"But how…when…what!" he shouted. "When did they turn into animals!"

"I guess that gas really did get to you," Riggs said. "Don't worry, you guys just help the others!" With that, Riggs practically melted into the foliage again, leaving the two alone to help each other get situated. Hoping from team member to team member, Riggs killed everything from elephants to oxen. He used a sharp rock as best he could to cut a five foot python from Grady, the poor man nearly suffocated. Still, there had been no sign of Riggs, and the flames grew closer.

"You really think I'm wrong for doing this, father?" D's father said. "After all they have done? They still deserve life?"

"You are misguided, my son," Q said, his voice as placid as his son and grandson's. "They make mistakes, true enough, but no creature deserves such a horrid death."

"They nearly killed our line," D's father said, his calm façade starting to waver. "This will be the moment where Earth once again comes into balance!"

Shimmying up a tree, Riggs looked down to see a bull Asian elephant, it's trunk wrapped around one of the female agents, it's foot ready to crush the other. Pulling out his beretta, he tried to aim for the right spot, but cursed. Any way he saw it, shooting the elephant would bring it's full weight down on the agent, taking her out of the fight if not outright killing her. Then, gunfire echoed in the distance, shotguns and automatics. The elephant moved in surprise, backing up from the fire. Moving away from the woman on the ground. "Perfect." Firing at the creature's eye, the round struck true, piercing the thick skull and entering the brain, the mad creature not able to react before it collapsed, it's tusks keeping it's head from crushing the woman. It's trunk, however, was not as cooperative, throwing the first woman on top of the second.

"Uh, sir, c-could you please, um…I mean, not that I'm not…what I mean…"

"Don't let me interrupt," Riggs said, jokingly as he landed on the ground, only for Patty to shoot up and slap punch him hard on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"That'll teach you, ya pervert!" Patty growled, helping Marcy up. "You okay?"

"Yes, si-Patty," Marcy said, holding herself close to Patty, Patty rubbing Marcy's arm to calm her. Nodding, Riggs moved on, running through the bushes like a ghost. Then he froze, seeing something amazing.

Murtaugh was ducking and weaving, a large tiger swiping and biting at him. Unable to get at his revolver, Murtaugh was bobbing and weaving like a champion boxer. A quick jab at the animal's jaw sent it back, a growl answering. Still, an unarmed man against a tiger was not often an even fight, and Murtaugh was slowly forced back. Waiting, Riggs checked his magazine and cursed, three rounds left in the chamber. Without another thought, he ran out and screamed, "Rog!" Both Murtaugh and the tiger looked behind them to see Riggs throw the beretta, the weapon heading straight for Murtaugh. With a roar, the tiger swiped at Murtaugh's midsection, just as his fingers closed around the gun. Screaming, Murtaugh fell to the ground, not moving. Grabbing his partners revolver, Riggs got two shots off before the gun clicked, both rounds slamming into the tiger's ass. Looking backwards and growling, the tiger turned back to Murtaugh and turned him over, only to see that it had ripped apart a bulletproof vest and dented a section of plating. "Technology over terror," Murtaugh said, before he fired the three rounds into the tiger's head.

"Holy crap, Rog, you okay?" Riggs said, running up. "I mean, wow, you took on a tiger, man, that was incredible! In all my days with special forces I never, I mean _never_ saw a guy take on a tiger bare-knuckled, you really are crazy pal!"

"Riggs, just help me up, dammit," Murtaugh growled, holding his hand over his wounds.

The team quickly regrouped, deciding to forget their masks and rely on Riggs for guidance, which Murtaugh briefly argued against. Slowly, they made their way back to the windows, where D's father and grandfather were busy glaring at each other. "Alright, pet shop's closed," Riggs said, leveling his weapon at the two. "You're both under arrest."

"We do not bow to the laws of _man_," D's father said disgustedly. "Nature's laws are what we abide by."

"Yeah, well Nature's a bit of a bitch," Earl said, rubbing at the back of his head. "So what happens, you let that virus loose and kill every human being on Earth?"

"That is what will happen," D's father said. "Nature will rebalance herself."

"Oh, so nature's gonna take care of those nuclear power plants too, huh?" Riggs said. "And all those nukes that're gonna go off once the Russians and Chinese realize there's nothing left to lose?"

"They would not-"

"Oh, they wouldn't, huh!" Burt said, cutting off D's father. "You really think that humans won't take the world to the ashes if they think they're gonna die out!"

"And what about the oil riggs out at sea!" Orcot said, seeing D's father's face start to fall apart, stoicism replaced with a steadily growing anger. "I don't think saltwater on metal works so well, and oil in the ocean doesn't mix well with the dolphins, huh!"

"Humans may have created many problems," Chuck finally said. "But they also know how to fix those problems quickly. How long does it take nature to fix an oil spill compared to mankind?"

"Enough!" D's father screamed. As he did, the spotlights shifted from the window to the now approaching shape of Honlon. Turning, D's father raised his arms, holding in his hands the contract between D and Chris. "Mighty dragon! I free you from your bondage," he shouted, tearing the contract in two. "Now destroy these humans first, then finish the lot of them! Starting with the stadium!"

The three heads nodded, Kanan grinning evilly, Shuko and Junrei merely opening their mouths, ready to kill the team.

Before they could fire their lightning, Burt fired the Grizzly's last round at Shuko's open mouth.

One second, the dragon was gathering it's power. The next, Shuko and Junrei screamed, the back of Kanan's head erupting into a red mist, falling limp. As it did, missiles and gunfire erupted from the ground, peppering the underside. Shuko and Junrei shrieked away, flying atop the roof, only for Bravo three to open with it's minigun again. With another roar, the dragon curled itself inside the roof, black hawks circling it.

"No," D's father whispered. "No! You killed it! A dragon, a rare creature!" He turned, ready leaped at Burt, ready to kill, only for Leon to shoot him in the chest. The man looked confused for a second, feeling at his quickly blood soaked chest. D nodded solemnly, then disappeared into the rainforest, Q-chan looking at the team. "You killed my son."

"Can we just get out of here please!" Grady shouted. "I just wanna get paid and get home!"

"Agreed," Marcy said, backing away from the windows. "Incoming!"

Looking outside, the team saw a helicopter, light gray, speeding at the building, specifically the floor they were on. Following Riggs, they ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over each other, almost breaking their necks and legs, past the point of exhaustion but still running.

"You underestimated them, my son," Sofu D said, kneeling down to comfort his son. "You were mistaken."

Powell could only watch as the chopper slammed into the windows, erupting into flame a split second later. Pieces of chopper and glass rained to the ground, walkers and police backing away. Hearing screaming, he looked back to the ground floor, and saw the entry team running out, collapsing as they ran past Powell. "What happened!" Powell said, waving EMTs over. "What happened up there!"

"A bad…flashback," Murtaugh said, as he slowly let himself fall asleep.

* * *

8:52 AM. L.A. was under a loose control, police, National Guard, and Iscariot auxiliaries patrolling the streets, eliminating any loose ghouls and helping any survivors get medical attention. Looting was at a miraculous minimum, many just grateful to be alive. Outside Dodger's stadium, Leon and the others took a small rest, as Valkyrie squadron was quickly loaded onto their Galaxies, police and Guard collecting as many cameras as they could find, each one thrown into a collection bin for analysis and destruction. Murtaugh was currently busy calling his wife, telling her that they were going to have guests over for breakfast.

"Yes, baby, I love you too…What? You're cooking bacon? I'll tell them to eat beforehand…Ha, yes, I know…Love you too baby, bye." Hanging up the cell, he smiled as he took a drink of water. "Sorry, everyone, but you've all been invited to sample my wife's cooking. If anything, this'll be the thing that kills you."

"He's not kidding, either," Riggs said. "I still have flashbacks of that first Christmas, Rog."

"Shut up, you," Murtaugh said, kicking at his partner.

"How bout it, Chris?" Leon said, ruffling his little brother's hair. "As one of the good guys, a home cooked breakfast sounds good, right?"

"Yeah," Chris said. "But where's Shuko and her sisters?"

"I guess D finally took'em away," Leon said. "Don't worry, we'll find them. Someday."

"Your wife won't mind the Grizzly, will she?" Burt asked, sipping from his canteen. "I just don't want to let it too far outta my sight."

"Hell Burt, the NRA would mind that thing," Earl said, Val and Grady sniggering. "Can't you just leave it in the car?"

"Not in my car," Murtaugh said. "It's messy enough."

"So, Grady," Val said, turning away from the conversation. "Still think we should put this stuff in Monsterland?"

Grady shook his head. "Nah, I learned my lesson, Val," he said. "That was…way too scary. Scarier than the graboids, actually."

"Thought so," Val said, patting Grady on the shoulder. "We'll educate you yet, kid."

"But we can still charge for the graboids we killed, right?" Grady said excitedly, Earl and Val looking at each other, at first confused, then smiling.

"Guys, I've got some important news!" Powell said, running up. "That guy in the red, Deadpool? Air force lost track of'im, we're searching the area now."

"What?" Patty said, shooting up from where she and Marcy were sitting. "Where'd he go!"

"We found one of the airmen transporting him, a tech sergeant. Found him strung up from some dead powerlines. Said that Deadpool pushed him out, then set the chopper to slam into the Nakatomi building. After that, he doesn't know."

"Boat," Chuck said. "With all that's happened, a ground escape would be too obvious. Check the nearest marina records, that should turn something up."

Powell nodded, then felt his stomach rumble. "Um…maybe after breakfast?"

Chuck looked around at his team. "Well, guys, do you think Deadpool's that big a danger?"

"Not as long as he doesn't try and take my blanket away again," Linus said with a grin.

"Hm. What do you say, Marcy?" Patty said.

"Whatever you say…Patty," Marcy said, pecking Patty on the cheek.

"The odds of Deadpool being a danger to innocent people are pretty low," Schroder said. "The odds of us all dropping from hunger are much higher."

"Then it's settled," Riggs said, jumping up. "Now c'mon, let's just get this over with."

"Hey, you'd best stop insulting my wife's cooking, or I'll make you have seconds," Murtaugh said, as the group walked to their cars.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Shuko," D said, as his ship sailed the sky. "I didn't think…"

"It's alright, D," Shuko said, solemnly burning a stick of incense for her lost sister. "We all must pass. It was her time."

"So what now?" T-chan growled. "We just wait up here until they're ready?"

"Unless you would like to be discovered, we all must stay here," D said. Going to the rail, D looked down and sighed. "Farewell, detective. I will miss our little talks."

* * *

**Chapter 19 up! But that's not the last, folks! One more to go! Review as you can, and let it be heard!**


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

Carl Kolchak sat at his desk, taping away on his antique typewriter. Most of the younger reporters in the office were hooked to their computers, but Kolchak preferred the typewriter, even though he knew that, eventually, he'd have to change over.

"They finally finished cleaning all the streets up after nine days," he typed. "New York is still finding ghouls hidden in crawl spaces and tunnels. The Sons and A.O.H. are also still helping in all affected areas, though there's still reported unease between them and the police. Mnsg. Raju was brought up on charges of attempted murder, and is now awaiting trial on Rikers Island. He still claims his innocence to all charges. As for the Vatican, they've admitted to having a larger force of Swiss Guard than admitted, and that some were indeed utilized for certain actions that would be deemed 'unsavory' to many. But they deny any evidence that those responsible were religious, that those like Raju are, in fact, madmen who went too far. As for the Saints of South Boston, well, no one's seen hide or hair of them. But reports have come in that they were spotted in the company of a team of escape specialists/mercenaries from the infamous Thai city of Roanapur, a noted hive of scum and villainy. If they even got there, they probably didn't last long."

"In California, the damages are still being tallied from looters and burnings, but the death toll still rings higher. The man known as Deadpool has vanished, along with the mysterious 'Count D'. Despite the fact that much of the city is still reeling, the LAPD has decided, without hesitation, to launch a full-scale search for these men, even calling on the FBI for assistance. The investigation, led by one Detective Orcot, is at a standstill."

"Finally cleaned out, at least to many thousands of Americans, Washington D.C. is finally back in business. And hopefully, under the charge of now-president Dennis Hastert, things can at least somewhat begin to resemble a form of normalcy. And with the formal creation of the 'Fringe' division, headed by one Walter Skinner, America now, at least officially, has a protection against the paranormal. They've decided to keep the nickname, 'The X-Files.' Aside from the investigation into the mysterious pet shop, they've also been called to look over the reports that a small boy and girl, along with a rather large tiger, helped to prevent the further spread of undead through Washington D.C."

"In England, thousands are still reeling, but according to Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth II, 'Our island has faced far worse in it's history, and we have always rebuilt. This time will be no different, and now we can finally show the world our true potential against this new threat.' However, many have criticized Hellsing, some for it's overly violent and destructive methods, and still others because of _what_ it uses. Not that it's affected American-British relations, with Airmen Mendez and Figgins gaining the Victoria Cross for, quote, 'Most conspicuous bravery, or some daring pre-eminent act of valor or self-sacrifice, or extreme devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy.' In his acceptance speech, Mendez said, 'If it wasn't for the sacrifice of Airman Figgins, the village of Newmarket would have been wiped from the map. I know he would be thankful for this honor, as I am.' Sir Hellsing, meanwhile, said, 'It takes a rather special breed to stand up to a vampire without any training. Both airmen deserve the honors given to them.'"

Kolchak stopped, and looked at the typewriter. "A special breed," he said, thinking back to his own vampiric encounters in LA and Vegas years before, as he pressed the "record' button on his tape recorder. "If it really does take a special breed to take on a vampire, then I'd have to say mankind is a special breed," he said, looking outside into the coming night. "We humans don't have super strength, or vision or any other powers. We have to use our wits, our technology, our sheer determination. That's all we have, really. But then, who's the stronger. The creature that has to hide itself in the day, who slinks about in the shadows, scraping for a meal or made practically a slave to a master, or the one who seeks out, who invents…who discovers." He stopped again, a realization dawning on him. "There's a reason this is a major turning point in history. Mankind has finally fully stepped out of the shadows of superstition and fear and proved that these things are real. There is no 'magic' anymore, just what science hasn't yet studied. But that, in itself, is just as tantalizing a mystery," he said. "Two more notes. One; New York news services have recently published an article, a man saying that the Ghostbusters did not actually finish the vampire, and that a group of black-suited men were sighted among the panicked crowds. No other verification has come for this. And the second," he said with a smile. "Well, in light of this new evidence, the Chicago police have decided to reopen several unsolved cases that could now be explained through the recently created 'Special Investigations' division. Lt. Murphy's asked me to help with that." He smiled widely. "Well, tomorrow, anyway. Tonight, I'm going to get something I so rarely find," he said, pressing the stop button. "A good night's sleep." Whistling, he gathered his things, put his finished manuscript on his editor's desk, and walked out, hitting the lights as he went. A few seconds later, a man, entirely in black and white, stepped seemingly out of thin air, into the center of the office, looking at the back wall.

"_Mr. Kolchak is correct. As science advances, the mysteries of the world grow few and far between. And as they do, they will fight tooth, nail, claw, fin and mind to keep undiscovered. For the unknown now has reason to keep itself hidden, now that mankind has finally found it…in the Twilight Zone._"

* * *

"_It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, won't you be mine?_" Around the country, since schools were cancelled, children gathered around the TV, watching as Mr. Rogers walked about his house, singing his song. Those who could read saw the show was going to talk about heroes, but the kids had no idea how Mr. Rogers would talk about something like that. "Hello, neighbor," Mr. Rogers said, changing his shoes. "I hope you're feeling well today. Today, I wanted to talk about something that I think we all need to know about. But I'll save that for later, because King Friday's called a royal court meeting, and we have to go to the neighborhood of Make-Believe right away."

As the show carried on, the royal meeting in Make-Believe, a visit to a firehouse, and a video from Mr. McFeely on how comics were made. But the kids watching noticed that there were no heroes on the show yet. No Superman, no Wonder Woman, or even Batman!

Finally, Mr. Rogers sighed, and saw down next to Trolley, and looked at the camera, directly at his audience. "Friends, you've no doubt heard about what happened across the country, that something bad happened, that a lot of people are sad, are hurting." Still, he kept smiling, staring at the kids watching. "You have the right to know that this happened because someone didn't know how to handle their angry or sad feelings," he said, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. "Someone was lonely, and mad, and they wanted to take out that anger on other people. If we didn't have heroes, I don't think I would be talking to you right now." Still smiling, despite the tears, Rogers pressed on. "You see, a hero doesn't have to wear a cape, or use a utility belt. A hero is a fireman, or a policeman. A hero is a person who does the right thing, he keeps people from getting hurt, or from taking out their angry feelings on someone else. A hero can even be your family, your own parents!" He paused, and put his hand on Trolley, before looking back at the camera. "You can be a hero too. If you see someone being bullied, you can be a hero by stopping the bully from hurting someone, and you can even help the bully, help them get away from their angry feelings. And that can help you feel good." Getting up, he walked over to his stairs and started changing. "_And it's such a good feeling to know you're alive, it's such a good feeling, you're growing inside!_"

As he walked out the door, he paused, and looked at the camera again. "You always make each day such a special day," he said, wiping at his eyes. "You know how. Just by being you. And tomorrow, I'll be back, and you'll be back. Because there's only one person in the whole world like you." He smiled brightly now, putting on his best face for the children. "And people can like you, exactly the way you are!"

* * *

As Deadpool piloted his stolen yacht towards Roanapur, sniffling and wiping away the tears, he turned his head to the left. "This entire comic would not have been possible without the permission of "And Shine Heaven Now" author Erin Ptah, and no, I don't have a clue how to pronounce the last name. So go to her site and give it a look over, would ya? Now if you'll excuse me, I have to…I have to have a good cry from that ending…"

"_I love you guys!_" Italics said.

"**I'll be your neighbor!**" Bold said. Slowly, the yacht sailed into the sunset, and off into the next adventure.

* * *

**There you have it, folks. The end of "And Shine Simple Heroes". I'd again like to thank Erin Ptah and the community of Shine, both for allowing me to write this story, and for not tarring and feathering me for having Integra get hit. And, as per usual, let me hear what you think was right, what was wrong, and what made you laugh.**

**This here's the Flyboy, I'm gone, bye-bye!**


End file.
